Mulligan's Do-It-Yourself Do-Over
by C.N.Wolfe
Summary: Greetings Traveler, for that is what you are soon to be. Know that you are very lucky to have been chosen by the whims of Time to find this box at a point when I am certain you feel you need it. And know that you are a special breed indeed to have chosen yourself to use it. You have been given a precious gift - the gift to change Time yet to come.
1. Prologue and Chapter One

**A/N** I don't own the toys, and I don't own the sandbox. I'm just having a little fun playing in it for a while. Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, on with the fic! (Chapter specific A/N's will always appear at the end of the Chapter)

Prologue

_The Journey of One Thousand Miles…_

Blast it all to Hades, but he was crying again. This time, Draco was curled in one of the deserted corners of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, rather a bit more secure that this time his chances of having a near-miss of being discovered were diminished. A Malfoy – or at least a _male_ Malfoy – was not to be seen publicly breaking down into a complete mess of blubbering sobs. Between threats and bribes, he'd managed to convince Myrtle herself to vacate before the tears had started. Now all that was left was contemplation of his fate. And truth to be told, he rather thought it might actually be worth tears.

"It's all _bloody __**Potter's**_ fault," he bemoaned to the empty space between hiccupping bouts of tears. It had come out half-whimper, and half-snarl, and much less angry than he'd meant for it to. But that may have been to be expected. The growing parts of him that had started to take things much more grimly, more seriously, more… _maturely_… since summer could easily see that blaming an orphan boy who'd had exactly no say about the drama he'd been thrust into as being the cause of his own situation was – well, it was childish. Of course, the part of him that currently had him sniveling in a girls' toilet thought it was entirely sensible to hate Potter all the more for the fact that he couldn't reasonably be blamed.

With a shuddering sigh, he pulled himself up a bit straighter against the wall, then held his breath for several long strings of heartbeats. When he let the breath out, it was still shaky, but more steady than he expected. Nodding firmly to himself, he reached over, and pulled his school satchel closer. Not that there were any school-things to be found in it on this cold afternoon. With a willful air of nonchalance – even to himself – he set aside first the leather-wrapped tool kit, and next a small, yet surprisingly heavy, black box with faded gold lettering that read "Mulligan's Do-It-Yourself Do-Over", instead reaching for an ever-full quill and a small ledger book.

"Day after tomorrow's the train for Winter Hols," he muttered to himself, almost as if testing out his voice. "If I don't sort this out now, I may not get another chance." He sighed, shot an extra locking charm at the door – along with an alarm trigger that would alert him if anyone lingered outside for too long – and then tapped the book's spine twice, requesting a third page to fold out beside the existing two.

Absently, he labeled his pages as individual columns. The first was marked _Good Factors_, the second _Bad Factors_, and the third, _Why I Should Just Bugger Off, And Just Try Something Different_ (he had a bit of difficulty fitting the last on the space he'd allotted himself).

He stared at his first page a long time, before grudgingly writing down four things: Succeed = Entry into Inner Circle, Succeed = Live, Succeed = Mum Lives, Succeed = Father Lives.

The Second page was much easier, and if it hadn't been a magical ledger book, he would have been hard pressed to keep it all on the page. The first items were easy to write down: Fail = Tortured, Fail = Mum Tortured, Fail = Father Tortured, Fail = Dead, Fail = Mum Dead, Fail = Father Dead. Then with a little more thought, he grudgingly added: Succeed = More Chances to Fail, and Tasks = Likely Impossible.

Moving on to the third column, he recopied everything from the second. Then, holding his breath, for it was something he hadn't even dared let himself think too often, let alone put to voice or quill, he very shakily added: I Hate _Lord_ Voldemort.

Seeing his full thoughts abbreviated in black and white in front of him made the decision much easier than he'd expected. "Tonight, then," he muttered to himself, dragging a hand roughly through his pristine hair. He cast a thorough incendio on the ledger pages in one of the sinks, checked that his face no longer bore any marks of tears, then repacked his satchel and left the room with his head held high. Either way it was a devil's gamble, but at least this way he'd be the one choosing the game.

MM

As chill and damp as the dungeon made the Slytherin Dormitories every winter, no one thought to question the fact that Draco had the curtains of his four-poster drawn, even as comparatively early as it was in the evening. Certainly everyone had noticed that of late his temper was short; although she denied having anything to do with it, his roommates had all put the blame squarely on Pansy Parkinson. After all, even the others who had a parent or two in the Dark Lord's service hadn't been informed yet of Draco's mission.

Had they ventured close enough to try to get his attention, they might have found that there was, in fact, a silencing spell held tight in against the curtains, which were in turn affixed to the bed and each other by a rather powerful sticking charm. And should anyone have been foolish enough to persist past those two discoveries, they would have encountered a variety of jinxes and hexes ranging from the mildly embarrassing to the sort that would require a visit to Madam Pomfrey to be fixed. He needed the utmost in privacy tonight. Tonight was his last chance; he could feel it in his bones.

Inside the curtains, and by the glow of a small conjured sphere of light, Draco carefully opened the Mulligan's Do-It-Yourself Do-Over box for only the second time. As before, the contents seemed innocuous enough. There was a small bottle of what was probably a potion of some sort, a quill, a needle of some silver-toned metal, a small pile of blank parchment, a pamphlet that most likely contained instructions, and sitting lightly on top, a single sheet of parchment that read simply: _Worry not where you leave me when you begin your journey. As Time changes, so will my place, until I am where I'm needed to grace the next soul in __**dire**__ straits._

Setting aside the loose leaf that had set atop everything, Draco lifted out the pamphlet, the front of which was decorated with the image of a snake devouring its own tail, over which was printed the words: _How Mulligan Suggests You Do-It-Yourself!_ And beneath it: _A Guide to Rearranging Time_.

Much more curious now than he had been when he'd first found the box in the room of Lost and Discarded things, Draco carefully flipped open to the first page, and began to read.

_Greetings Traveler, for that is what you are soon to be. Know that you are very lucky to have been chosen by the whims of time to find this box at a point when I am certain you feel you need it. And know that you are a special breed indeed to have chosen yourself to use it. I cannot reveal to you the hows or whys – not even of my knowing these things – but you have been given a precious gift – the gift of time. And not just any time, but the gift of time gone by, which can be used to change time yet to come._

_The use of this kit is very simple. Use the enclosed platinum needle to prick your left index finger, and allow one drop of your blood to fall into the bottle for each year you wish to go back. Swirl the bottle counter-clockwise for that many turns. Then, after the liquid has settled, use the enclosed quill to write out the exact date you wish to return to on one of the blank slips of parchment. You'll know the ones. When the potioned-ink has dried fully, you must burn the parchment. Use the ash to mark the symbol for infinity upon your chest. For best results, go to sleep immediately after._

_Make the best use of your new time that you can, for even if you should somehow happen upon this kit again in your new future, you will be unable to use it a second time. Good Fortune, Traveler._

_Sincerely,_

_Mike Mulligan_

Feeling that he truly had nothing to lose, Draco carefully re-read the directions, and then followed them to the letter. He slipped the box beneath his pillow, banished the light, and waited a very, very long time for sleep to find him that night.

MM

When he awoke in the morning, the first thing that seemed… wrong to Draco was the fact that it was light. He always slept with the curtains drawn when he wasn't at home. Then it dawned on him, he was staring up at the black-background, flying snitch bed curtains he'd had at home – up until his third year when his Mum had let him redecorate. Frantically, he scrabbled to get his left arm free from the bedding and looked down in fear, only to be greeted with smooth, unblemished skin. Had it really worked? Was he really all the way back in the summer before first year? Next to him in his bed was a battered plush Welsh Green toy dragon that seemed to smile at him in an affirmative. Rushing through the door to the bathroom, he stripped off all his nightclothes (seemingly the same as the ones he'd worn at 11) and examined himself in the mirror.

He certainly didn't remember being quite so scrawny, but he was definitely younger. Getting ready to wake up, he bit down on his tongue as hard as he could, then had to clamp down on a shout as a slight copper tang filled his mouth. Alright, not a dream then. He stepped down into the tub, startled when it automatically began to fill with tepid water. Draco had come to prefer much hotter baths. Perhaps he really should have thought this through more completely.

"Draco? Darling?" His mother's voice came floating through his bedroom.

"In the bath Mum," was _that_ his voice at 11? He sounded 5!

"Try to hurry down for breakfast, dear. It's shopping day!"

Trust his mother to make shopping sound like it was as exciting as Quidditch. "Yes Mum. Won't be long!"

Well, it was the date he'd written down, at least. Now to find out if he could keep from getting everything else wrong… again. As he leisurely began to lather up his hair, he started to turn the new set of problems over and over in his head. He should have to try to be careful not to upset the flow of things too fast – a rapid switch in his personality could make his parents entirely too suspicious, that much was a given – the last thing he needed was to be drug off to some sort of mind-healer. Or have his thoughts examined by his Godfather.

Any nonsense about preserving the timeline was out – he'd come back specifically to _change_ things, after all. Maybe the question was why he'd gone for this day – this date, in particular. The only thing he could think of at all, was that it was the day he'd first met Potter, back in Madam Malkin's. He'd been suffering through the process of getting an entire new wardrobe on his Mother's orders, when the boy had come in, so scruffy and lost-looking that it hadn't been until after they'd met again on the Express that he'd fully realized who it was he'd met.

Draco paused, mid-scrub. Knowing as little as he had about Potter at the time – and not even knowing it _was_ Potter the first time they'd spied each other – he'd in retrospect completely blown any chance at an alliance before proposing one. And he had to admit that it was in no small part due to his manner at the shop, and truthfully on the train as well.

Could that have been the reason for the off-the-cuff choice of this day? After all, Potter was seemingly the anti-Voldemort. If he could orchestrate things such that by the time the Dark Lord regained his strength, both his family and himself were somehow safely allied with Potter, then… That must be it.

Groaning, he dunked himself completely below the waterline to finish rinsing off. It would seem that, at least on a subconscious level, it looked like he'd decided the initial key to the entire solution to his past-future-eventual problem hinged on successfully becoming friends with The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-The Thorn-In-His-Side the last time around. Just bloody _wonderful._

Surfacing, he elected to dry off and start dressing for the day before his mother came looking for him again. He'd been excited, and therefore quite prompt the first time around, and the one thing he had to make sure of was that he was in Malkin's when Potter got there. Apparently everything depended on it.

Chapter One

_Diagon Alley – Part One_

As it turned out, Draco soon found out that the hardest part of keeping things running to what he approximated was the right timetable was actually reminding _himself_ to stay to the script, as it were. He found himself revisiting his memory of his _real_ first time buying school supplies constantly, trying to remember if he should be lingering here, or attempting to rush through there. Finally, his Mother drug him (and honestly it was still with a bit of reluctance on his part) into Madam Malkin's, arranged for a new wardrobe, then informed him that when the proprietor was done with him he was to come _directly_ to Ollivander's, where he would finally be able to get his wand – and happy was he to hear it again, because he was feeling quite edgy being out on the Alley without the reassuring touch of Hawthorne ready at his fingertips.

He hadn't ever thought of himself as having grown more patient, exactly, but he must have since the first time he'd been through this day, as several times he caught the shop-workers giving him the oddest looks, as if they were expecting a temper tantrum or at least a few whinges about how they ought to be moving faster, or treating him more gently. Amusement at their confusion was enough to help him pass the time until he spotted the familiar hulking form of Hagrid bent down just inside the shop's entrance. Draco could just make out a quiet conversation about how the Groundskeeper would be back for him shortly, and something about Gringotts' carts, and then today's objective walked on ahead into the main workroom.

It was all Draco could do not to gasp. If he was scrawny now-then-whenever it was he found himself currently, than Potter was a mere shadow. The boy looked around, half excited and half furtive – as though he was in awe of his surroundings, but at the same time was constantly expecting something to jump out and attack him. He certainly looked eager, but infinitely small as well, and more than a little nervous.

When Potter jumped as they began to measure him – and chatter more to each other than to their clients, as they so often did with children – Draco realized he had to stop musing, and start setting things on a different path. Putting on what he hoped was an actually polite smile, he looked over. "Is it your first year for Hogwarts too?"

Potter startled a little, and then looked over, offering a guarded smile of his own. "Guess it's obvious. Yeah. Didn't even know I was a Wizard until today, but I guess my parents were."

Draco considered his angle for about a half a second, then realized he had to stay away from any aggressive stances on anything. "It must be nice to see everything for the first time like that. I'm Draco by the way. Draco Malfoy."

"Harry Potter," came the expected reply, but with something odd, a twitchy, seemingly reflexive flinch.

"Let me guess," said Draco, surprising himself when he heard genuine sympathy in his own voice, "You've only just got here, and everyone who finds out who you are falls all over themselves to try to be your fan, all for something that from your point of view isn't some victory, but the night you lost your parents?"

"Yes!" The reply was surprisingly firm. "Even Hagrid – he's great, mind you, found me where they thought we were hiding, and bringing me here and all – but he says my parents were so amazing, then acts like he's proud of _me_. He doesn't even really know me. No one does." He wound down suddenly, glancing around shakily as if expecting a harsh reprimand to come from somewhere. "Er, sorry," he said, softly and rather randomly.

"Don't have to be sorry – especially if it's true," said Draco with a shrug. Inwardly, he wondered how a boy whose emotions went in that many directions was destined to be a leader of the light. But he didn't know him all that well either, that was bound to be a lot of unexpected things along the way. "Did your friend Hagrid tell you what to get here?"

"Just standard school robes," said Potter. "Why?"

"You should get a basic wardrobe. You might not like being a center of attention, but you are one, and it wouldn't hurt to make the best first impression you can when you get to school."

"But I only got a little money out of my vault—"

"Trust Vault, I'm betting," Draco mumbled to himself.

"What?"

"I'll explain later, but anyway, you can have them draw the money directly out of your vault for you." He looked around for a second, then spotted the witch he needed. "Madam Malkin," he called, as sweetly as he could manage.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Since you're already measuring him up, how much trouble would it be for you to do a wardrobe for Harry?" He'd only barely kept himself from saying Potter.

"It would depend on a lot of things, Mr. Malfoy, not least of which being what items were to be included in it," said the slightly frazzled tailor.

"How about just doing it up mostly the same as mine – just in colors better for him. Some casual robes, winter weights of the school robes, a few cloaks… well, and he probably doesn't need dress robes at the moment, I don't think."

"That wouldn't be too difficult, I suppose," she said, the wheels in her head obviously already turning.

"Draco," Harry practically hissed in a half-whisper, "are you _sure_ I have the money for this?"

He turned back toward Potter, "If you don't, I'll pay for it out of my own allowance, no matter how long it takes." Harry paled a bit, visibly swallowed, then nodded, so Draco turned back to Madam Malkin. "It'll be a vault charge. I'm sure he can be back to pick them up when he's finished with his other shopping?"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy." She smiled with the contentment that comes from having received two good commissions in one day. "Now if you two gentlemen will try not to fidget, we can finish up with you in short order."

Considering that talking might be construed as fidgeting, the two remained silent. All the short while, Draco wondered how on earth it was so much shorter an endurance for Potter. Perhaps his frequent squirming and complaining about the process in the past had given them reason to take their time with him in retaliation. He was just beginning to ponder if Madam Malkin had been a Slytherin when they were both allowed to step down.

Draco followed Harry over to the till to talk him through signing a Vault Draft for his purchase. As they walked out of the shop, they were practically bowled over by Hagrid, who had been pacing outside. "What's took yer so long," he asked Harry abruptly. Draco elected to stand quietly to the side.

"Sorry Hagrid," said Harry, immediately seeming to shrink. So much for standing to the side.

"It's my fault, sir. We talked a bit, and I realized he needed a few more things than just school robes. I set up the order for him, and walked him through signing a Vault Draft for it. I'm sorry if I've put you off schedule for something."

Harry looked both pale and shocked that Draco had taken the blame. Hagrid, on the other hand, just gave a slightly awkward smile. "Aw, 'tweren't mad at yer Harry, just worried. Can't go misplacing the Boy Who Lived, now can I? Now, who might you be," he said, turning toward Draco.

"This is my new friend Draco," Harry chirped in enthusiastically.

"Well," said Hagrid, a bit of reluctance almost showing in his tone – perhaps he recognized the obvious resemblance Draco had to his father – "Well, any friend o' Harry's is a friend o' mine. Glad to meet yer."

Meeting Hagrid having gone so much more smoothly than he'd expected, Draco almost missed the moment when the tall man started giving Harry options as to where to go next. Quickly he spoke up again. "My Mum's waiting for me at Ollivander's, maybe we could go together?"

Hagrid seemed to think about that for a moment, then a broad grin came over his face as he obviously came to some sort of conclusion. "Brilliant! I'll jus' walk the two of yer over. Meet me at the Magical Menagerie when yer done, an' don't worry 'bout it takin' too long – takes forever sometimes, finding yer wand." He parted ways with them at the door to Ollivander's, reminding them again of what he'd just said.

Draco put his hand on the door pull, then looked at Harry with pure enthusiasm he couldn't help letting show all over his face. "Ready to get your real magic wand, Harry?"

"Yeah." The other boy's awe and excitement were plain to see.

Door opened, the two ventured in, not to be greeted by Ollivander – who seemed to be nowhere in sight – but rather by Mrs. Malfoy. "Draco," she cooed, at first not even seeing there was another boy standing with him. "That took ages dear, were they terribly busy after I left?"

"No, Mum," he said, hoping things would start off well, despite Harry's _current _attire, "I'm sorry I'm late, but I was helping my new friend order a wardrobe, he's never had to do it before."

"New friend?" Her left eyebrow rose just the tiniest fraction as her eyes moved over, noticing Harry for the first time. There was a long pause, and suddenly Draco realized what it was she was waiting for.

"Oh, sorry again, Mum." He stepped out of the way, and gestured towards Harry while looking at his Mum. "Mother, may I present Harry Potter, fellow First Year." Then he switched his posture. "Harry, this is my Mother, Narcissa Malfoy." At her smile, and nod toward Harry, he knew he'd at least gotten this much off on the right foot.

"And," said a slightly eerie voice from the back room, "two of the three of you are in need of wands, I do believe." And suddenly, Mr. Ollivander himself had appeared from behind the counter. "Which of you fine young gentlemen would care to be first?" And as he looked down at them from over his spectacles, Draco suddenly remembered how intimidated he'd been the first time around.

"Why don't you go first, dear," said Narcissa. "If what I've been told is true, your friend is probably still trying to take a lot in today." She gestured for Draco to step up to the counter, then patted the seat next to her, inviting Harry to sit down.

Before giving his attention to odd, old Ollivander, Draco heard Harry hesitantly ask what it was she'd heard. He assumed she'd tell Harry about how the Wizarding world at large only knew he was safe, but that those attuned to politics knew he'd been living with Muggle relatives.

MM

Draco was beginning to get frustrated. The first time around, his wand – Hawthorne and Unicorn Hair, 10 inches and with a nice bit of spring to it – had been quick to choose him. When they'd gotten to that wand this time, there had been only the faintest of tingles, and it had been snatched out of his hand to be replaced with the next contender. That was at least 15 wands ago now, and he thought he was justified in starting to feel a bit irritable. There was a momentary pause before a new wand was put in his hand after the last lack of reaction, and he looked over to notice Ollivander giving him the oddest look. "Sir?"

"Just thinking, just thinking… I think I may have sussed it out at last. Wait just as you are!" And he vanished into the back room. Just as quickly, he reappeared, slapping yet another wand into Draco's hand. Draco immediately felt himself filled with warmth and a near electric spark.

"Well," said Ollivander, "Give it a wave."

And with a simple wave of his arm, a shower of gold and silver sparks spouted out of the end of the wand, showering harmlessly down over the entire shop. "I'd call that one a keeper," Olivander said, somewhat needlessly. "11 and a half inches, good firm snap to it, Hazel and several hairs from a strong Unicorn who was the Stallion leading the Forbidden Forest band at the time he was collected from. Potentially a very powerful wand, that will grow with you, as you face those things you must. Take good care of that wand, Mr. Malfoy, and it shall take good care of you."

Draco switched places with a somewhat less haggard looking Harry, who hadn't moved from his place beside Draco's Mother. As Draco settled in for what might be a long wait, he leaned in slightly toward his mother at her gesture to do so. "Draco, dear, however did you spot that he was the Potter Heir when he's dressed like riff-raff? And the poor boy seems to know absolutely nothing!"

"He gave his name when we were in Malkin's. I set him up for a wardrobe – didn't want him to suffer the scandal of showing himself around Hogwarts dressed in… are those Muggle castoffs? I thought maybe they were. He decided that made us friends, so I invited him to come here with me to get his wand next. The Headmaster seems to have Hagrid in charge of him today."

"I'd gathered as much myself from what he said," his Mother intoned, obviously impressed that her son had been paying attention to what information was available to be gleaned. She couldn't, however, resist testing to see if he'd done any better. "Have you learned anything else?"

"I can't be certain, but I don't think the family that was given care of him treats him very well. Something about the way he seems slightly jumpy… and he turned paler than parchment when he thought he'd upset Hagrid when we came out of Malkin's later than expected."

Narcissa gave a slow smile of approval at her son's level of observation, which immediately turned into a frown at what he reported. "Try to keep close with him, Draco. I'll explain more when we get home – but he is family on my side. Distant, but blood. If it hadn't been for your father's legal troubles, I would have lobbied for us to take custody of him after his defeat of the Dark Lord. But not a word to your Father about that particular tidbit if you don't mind – he still doesn't know I'd considered it."

"Family?"

"Yes. I think we'll mention something about it when we take him back to Hagrid. Perhaps, although we may have to spend the time with Hagrid and remain polite, we'll spend the rest of the afternoon with them as he finishes his shopping – we don't have anything else scheduled. There are bound to be things not on the official list that Hagrid won't think to mention he should buy."

"I like that idea, Mother. He really seems a decent fellow, and seeing as he is, after all, family…" He trailed off, and the two of them watched as poor Harry easily went through at least three times the wands that Draco had before finding a match. Draco found himself suppressing a shiver as Ollivander told Harry about the only other Wand that shared a core-donator with his own. It seemed it really was something like Fate that Harry and Voldemort were tied together. Even if he was mostly unknowing of it so far, it was such an enormous burden to be placed on so small a boy's shoulders.

MM

Not wanting to insult young Harry, or overstep the bounds of a new friendship, Narcissa had allowed him to pay for his own wand, even though his eyes had gone quite round at the price. She had, however, gotten him a holster and care kit exactly like those she bought for Draco, stating that it was a "welcome back" gift, and the reason would soon be revealed. She successfully put enough mystery in her tone that he didn't protest, but instead let Draco show him how the holster could be used on the wrist or on a belt, and decided to wear it on his belt – beaming the whole while – as he was wearing short sleeves anyway.

They made their way toward the Magical Menagerie at a leisurely pace. Upon finding out that his Robes, and now his Wand were the only supplies Harry had thus far acquired, Narcissa took the time to point out all the best shops for the other supplies he would be in need of. She also didn't fail to notice that as they passed Florean Fortescue's, his eyes went just as silently hopeful as Draco's. Sadly, the silence seemed more that of one used to being denied than it did of one who had learned that _not_ whining was a better way to get what they wanted.

When they reached the Menagerie, Hagrid was sitting out front, a calm smile on his face. "An' there's Harry," he said in greeting, then standing and in a much more formal tone adding, "Mrs. Malfoy, Draco. I'm sure yer didn't need to walk the lad all the way here – probably got shopping of yer own to finish."

"It was no trouble at all, Mr. Hagrid," answered Narcissa, as warmly as she could manage – mindful that Harry considered Hagrid a friend. She was about to add something, seeming to feel this as an opportunity to clue in the boy that he was among family, when Hagrid's own boundless enthusiasm gave her an even better opportunity.

"Harry," Hagrid said eagerly, almost forgetting the Malfoys were standing there, "I bought yer a birthday present. Firs' years are allowed a pet. Toads went out o' style years ago, and cats're nice, but an owl, now an owl is dead useful, carryin' mail and all." He reached below the bench he'd been sitting on, and gently lifted up a cage that contained a beautiful snowy owl that Draco recognized straight away. "Bought ya all the kit yer gonna need for her to start out, too. Perch, food, treats, everything."

"Hagrid," Harry exclaimed, "She's Magnificent!" And he awkwardly threw his arms as far as he could around the overly tall groundskeeper.

A twinkle kept firmly at bay in her eyes, Narcissa took the opportunity to speak up. "Oh dear, how terrible of me to have forgotten that it's your birthday!"

Stepping back from Hagrid, Harry gave her a confused look. "Why would you know, Mrs. Malfoy? Unless… does everybody know that about me too?" He looked so strangely crestfallen that it was obvious more of her heart went out to the boy.

Draco was amazed when she went down onto one knee as she still did when he himself was especially upset. "Of course not, child," she said gently. "The fact is that Draco and I are your cousins. Distantly, but family still. I own a self-updating tapestry, and when you were born, you and your date of birth were added to it. There are very few of us left related through the Ancient and Noble House of Black, and although I rarely see most of my relations, I do try to keep as good an idea as I can of how they're doing. You'll find that in the Wizarding World, family is very important to a great many people, for a great many reasons."

"In fact," she said, raising up to her feet, after gently touching Harry's cheek with the back of her hand. "I think this settles it. Draco and I had been considering accompanying you for the rest of your shopping. Perhaps we'll find a gift of our own for you, and if we're lucky, an opportunity to pick it up. But first, I think I need to make up for forgetting it was your Birthday… perhaps with some ice cream?"

When Harry's eyes lit up with excitement and bright unshed tears, it was obvious she'd hit on the right tactic. "You're really in luck now, Harry," Draco said conspiratorially. "Mum buying 'I'm sorry' ice cream means the whole menu is in bounds for ordering. You're going to love this!"

Hagrid, having been blindsided, wordlessly handed Harry the Owl Cage, and trailed along behind, carrying the rest of the supplies. He had no idea how he was going to explain this turn of events to Dumbledore. Suddenly he was wishing he'd had more than one drink back at the Cauldron.

MM

At the Alley's beloved Ice Cream Parlor, Mr. Fortescue greeted everyone warmly, but avoided fawning over Harry – instead opting for vocally recalling memories of the boy's parents meeting over Ice Cream to work on summer homework during their later terms at Hogwarts. Hagrid, understanding the dance of hospitality, only had to be assured once more that Narcissa insisted on paying for the ice cream. Harry, on the other hand, stared wide-eyed at the menu, and had to be given a near-constant (and exhausting) stream of commentary by Draco – assuring him that at the moment, nothing at all was off limits. Finally, the scrawny boy tentatively settled on one of the largest sundaes that was on offer; surprising no one but himself with his choice.

When the treats arrived, the boys dove in with gusto. Draco noticed how Harry savored each bite as though it were both the first and last he would be allowed, and wondered if his mother had picked up on it as well. He also was pleasantly surprised when his mother gently went to work on Hagrid.

"Mr. Hagrid," she said graciously, after taking a cooling drink of her Ice Cream Soda, "I'm certain you're terribly busy this time of year, helping get the castle ready for the students and all. It's very good of you to have agreed to come shepherd young Harry around like this."

"'Tweren't nothing." He said proudly. "Dumbledore gave me another important chore today too, but I can't talk about that one. Trusts me, he does. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Still, you must have so much to do, ensuring the Forest won't pose a danger to unwitting students, for example. Though, I'm sure it's safe as houses to one as knowledgeable about its creatures as you are." Hagrid flushed a bit in pleasure at that, and Draco knew his mother had the big man where she wanted him. Flattery was often so effective. "Now that you've rescued young Harry from his hosts for the day, brought him here, gotten him a birthday present and all… I would be happy to help him with the rest of his shopping and see him home if you'd like – give you a chance to finish your errand for the Headmaster in due time and all."

Surprisingly, the grizzled looking man shook his head. "I promised I'd stay with the lad. He needs a gentle hand, Dumbledore said. Don' mind if you decide to come along with us," he looked a little surprised himself to have said that, "but I've got to stay with him."

Knowing when not to press things, Narcissa smiled, "I'm certain we'll all have a lovely time together, then."

The four of them made bits of small talk between sips and bites as Harry proceeded to utterly demolish his enormous ice cream. It made for a surprisingly pleasant break in the shopping, given the make-up of the people around the table.

**A/N** This fic was inspired by an abandoned piece that my partner-in-crime (and beta reader!) Lupinefire read. She mentioned it to me, and like her, I was intrigued with the idea of a time travel fic in which it was actually Draco who had done the travelling. As far as I know, a few others were inspired by that piece (which I unfortunately forgot to note the name or author of) and also ran with ideas. Other than those (which I have not read), I have never heard of or encountered a time travel fanfic where Draco is the traveler.

I currently have a 16 chapter lead-time on posting, so for the foreseeable future (especially given the rate at which I've been writing lately), there should be no trouble posting weekly – which is the current plan. I hope you're all willing to come along on this journey with me. It's already been a great one to be penning.

Please, no one ask me about pairings. At this point, they're only 11. While at some point in the future of this fic someone or other may pick up a romantic partner, it will happen when they're of an appropriate age to be thinking such thoughts. And as I let the writing go where it wants for the most part, potential pairings haven't been plotted out, much less thought about yet.

However, other commentary is more than welcome!


	2. Gringotts

**A/N** Not my toys or my sandbox. I just like to play here.

Chapter Two

_Gringotts_

When everyone had finished their ice cream, young Harry sat back with an almost comically satisfied smile on his face, with nary a drop of ice cream left in his bowl. As he hastily scrubbed his face and hands with a napkin, he remembered his manners, "Thank you _so _much Mrs. Malfoy!"

"Oh it's no trouble at all, Harry," she said with a genuine smile, tinged with slight sadness around the eyes as she recognized from his tone that 'full' was not a sensation he was used to. "And in short order I'll have thought of something a bit better for you to call me. I can't let such formality stand when we are, in fact, family. Are we all ready to go?"

At the satisfied nods from the group, she looked down at Draco's own shopping list, adding the last two check-marks next to robes and wand. "First I think we'll head back to Gringotts. I'd like to know how much you have left in your Trust Vault, and how many other Vaults you'll be aging up into and when.

"Draco said something about a Trust Vault too," Harry said inquisitively. "What's that mean? And what other Vaults? Are we going in one of those fun carts again?"

Draco scrambled to his feet as well – he could never be accused of wanting to miss a Vault-Cart ride. "Your Trust Vault would be the money that your parents left to get you through school, not counting tuition, if I remember right. It's for supplies and spending money. Mum would know more about other Vaults than I would."

MM

On the walk back through the Alley towards Gringotts, Mrs. Malfoy once again was in the position of shocking the young Harry Potter. "Your Father was the last Lord of an Ancient and Noble House, Harry; and the last I knew your family had plenty of money. As the sole living blood-heir to the House, not only will you inherit the title when you come of age at 17, but there may well be a great deal of monies available to you. It's best before we finish your shopping to know if we need be thrifty or if we can afford to spend a little more and get you top of the line equipment. It isn't all that much more expensive, but it can give you a bit of a boost as you begin your schooling. There's also a few extras I feel you should have – given that you were raised Muggle, they could help keep you from feeling quite as pitched in over your head."

Harry nodded mutely as they approached the main Bank doors, trying to absorb everything that had been said. At Mrs. Malfoy's gentle urging, he pointed out the Goblin that had helped him before. "Excellent Harry," she said, letting him see the encouragement and pleasure in her smile. "A wise wizard is able to tell one Goblin from another. Now we'll just move over to the table here –" She gestured to the half-round table that stood between the main doors. "And I'll write you up a short list of things you might want to ask about." It only took her a quick moment to write out the list for him. Handing it over, she asked him to take a look, and tell her if there was anything he didn't understand, or if there was anything else he wanted her to add. Almost as if it would bite him, Harry gingerly took the slip of parchment, and glanced down at the short list written in impeccable script.

_Current state of Potter Accounts?_

_What Vaults do I have access to at this point, and when will I gain access to any others?_

_How are the Vaults being handled?_

_Who has been in charge of the Accounts until now?_

_What stipend has been paid to my Guardians?_

_Are there any heirloom Vaults, and do I have access to them?_

_Are the Accounts Active, or Inactive?_

"I… I don't think I have any other questions, and I've been to the bank enough with my Aunt Petunia I think I mostly know what these questions mean… Why do I need to ask them today?"

"Two reasons, young Harry: One, it never hurts to know the state of your finances, and Two, it's never too early to start building a relationship with the Goblins by showing an interest. You are under no obligation to tell me the exact answers to those questions, and if they ask for a vow, give it without hesitation. I'm merely trying to help you get to a good start on things. Now go see if you can catch the attention of the Goblin who helped you earlier, and ask him if you can talk to someone authorized to deal with things on an account level. Do you still have your key?"

"No, I—"

"Didna want the lad ter lose it in his excitement," excitement, said Hagrid, a bit sheepishly. He wasn't so certain about coming back to Gringotts, and it was written all over his face.

"Nonsense," said Mrs. Malfoy. "If an 11 year old can be trusted to learn magic, they can be trusted to begin looking after things like Vault Keys, at least Trust Vault keys, which are easily enough replaced after a bit of paperwork with an Account Manager."

With an unconscious frown, Hagrid handed Harry back his key, and Harry – clutching both the key and the list of questions – scampered off to 'his' Goblin, who was currently sorting stacks of parchment at an end table. Harry stood quietly waiting to be noticed until the Goblin in question cleared his throat impatiently. "Um, Mr. Griphook? Sir? If it's not too much trouble, could you help me find someone I could talk to about the Potter Accounts?"

Griphook finally looked up from his papers, a bit surprised that the boy had bothered to remember his name. It was indeed the same boy he'd escorted down to the vaults earlier. "Wait right here, Mr. Potter, and I shall collect someone for you." Just as he was turning away, the boy surprised him much more.

"I don't want you to be behind on your work… is what you're doing something I could help with?"

"Ultimately my business is the Customer, Mr. Potter. But the offer is… appreciated." He gave a toothy smile, and hustled off to find someone qualified to speak to a network of accounts as complex and important as those tied to the Potter family.

It didn't take long for him to return with another Goblin, one rather more well-dressed than he himself was. "Mr. Potter, this is Boneblade, one of our Senior Account Managers. He will take you to a conference room where you can talk privately."

"Thank you Mr. Griphook," Harry said, as he trailed away, following Boneblade. He was led down a small side-hallway, and into a plush, side-chamber with a boardroom style table and chairs that dominated the room. Senior Account Manager Boneblade took the end seat closest to the fireplace, and gestured Harry into the seat to his right.

"What is it that I can do for you, young Master Potter? Don't be shy, now – Time is Money, friend." He gave a very similar toothy grin to the one Griphook had shown off.

Harry did his best to un-crumple the piece of parchment that Mrs. Malfoy had given him, and shyly slid it and his key across the table. "I've got some questions about the Potter Accounts – about _my_ accounts. My friend's mother wrote them out so I wouldn't forget anything. I'm willing to take a vow not to give specifics if you're unsure about the fact that she's helping me. You'd have to show me how – but I'd do it."

"You are 11 years of age today, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you a Goblin, you'd be undertaking a naming trial, and be considered partway to your maturity, ready to begin an apprenticeship. Your finances are your own affair, so long as you do not try to do anything illegal with them directly through Gringotts channels. I'm certain we can trust that any friend you have enough faith in to help you is your own matter. Would you like to invite this friend and their mother in, to help you sort through the answers I can give?"

"We can do that?"

"Of course. There will be a ritual to ensure they are looking out for your interests, but it's easily enough done. While I see to finding the answers to your immediate questions, I'll have them collected. Who is it that you're with?"

"Mr. Hagrid, Mrs. Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy, sir. If you please, I'm not sure Mr. Hagrid knows much about Banking, though."

"And the Malfoys and Gold are a natural fit. I'll have someone bring them back while I go pull the relevant paperwork." The Senior Account Manager stood, and made his way back to the door. As he opened it, he called out to a Goblin at the end of the hall. Temptsfate! Would you collect the Malfoy heir and his Mother from the lobby and show them to this room, please?" He looked back over his shoulder. "Won't be long now, Mr. Potter."

In short order, the Malfoys were led in by a Goblin who Harry could only assume was Temptsfate. "Is something wrong Harry," asked Mrs. Malfoy as they entered the room.

"Senior Account Manager Boneblade said I could have you back here with me to help explain things to me if I wanted. He said something about a ritual, but he was fine with it otherwise. I, er, I hope you don't mind?"

"Mind? Harry – we _are_ family, distant or not. I am more than happy to help you out in this matter if I can. In truth, it's probably the least I can do. So I shall consider it a good place to start." Anything else she might have said was swallowed up by the return of Boneblade.

"Wonderful, Mrs. Malfoy, Young Mr. Malfoy. Good of you be with us. A quick ritual to look after the current client's interests, and we can get down to Sickles and Knuts. And it dovetails neatly with a bit of work we need to do for Young Mr. Potter." Boneblade pulled from a sheath at his waist a knife that looked appropriately enough to be made of pure bone. He passed the dagger and a piece of parchment to Harry. "Carefully nick your right ring finger with the tip of the blade, and allow precisely seven drops of blood to fall onto the parchment, if you would young sir."

"Blood?"

"It's all right, Harry," said Mrs. Malfoy in a soothing voice. They need to verify what vaults you're entitled to inheritance of, and Goblin Magic traces those things by blood in order to ensure accuracy. If I'm right, the blood residue on the blade will also bind us to you in the ritual Boneblade wishes to conduct?"

"Correct."

Harry paled a bit, but took up the dagger, and discovered exactly how sharp it was when – rather than a struggle to bleed enough – it was a struggle to keep the amount of blood falling on the parchment down to just seven drops. He pulled back, cradling his hand to his chest, and Mrs. Malfoy almost hand to wrestle it away from his body in order to heal it, and spell the bloodstains off his clothes before they had a chance to set.

"I'm sorry!" Harry burst out in earnest. "I didn't mean to, I – I –"

"I should have given a more exact warning about why you were to be careful," stated Boneblade. "But it would seem the damage done has been mended. Now," he produced another parchment, "Four drops from you, Mrs. Malfoy, and three from Young Mr. Malfoy on this one. It's a standard nondisclosure agreement of sorts – you can neither act upon, nor speak of what you learn here today unless it is in the client's – here meaning Young Mr. Potter – best interest. Best interest determined by the standards of Gringotts and the Goblin Nation, not by the individual standards of Wizarding Society. It's merely a prohibition contract, not one on pain of death or loss of magic. You will simply find yourselves unable to speak of it should the situation be inappropriate. Mr. Potter, you, of course, will be able to discuss your finances with anyone, at any time you deem appropriate."

The dagger made its rounds, and the proper bleeding was accomplished, after which the two Malfoys were instructed to sign at the bottom of the ritual parchment, which was covered in the runic representations of written Goblin Magic. After they had signed, Boneblade whispered a few words over the parchment, then burnt it in the fireplace.

"Now that we've that bit of business out of the way," he announced with another very toothsome grin, "I believe we can get down to the reasons we're here – the Potter Accounts. I shall attempt to answer your questions as best I can at this time. Your first query was as to the current status of the Accounts they are Static, but not Frozen. That means that while they are accruing interest, they are making neither you, nor us, any additional income. All investment activity was frozen the Halloween that your Parents were killed by the Dark Lord known as Voldemort, by the same order that kept the wills from being executed fully."

"Kept the wills from being executed?" Harry, Draco, and Mrs. Malfoy spoke in near perfect unison.

"Yes, we'll be to that in a bit. At the time, all investment holdings were sold off. The Interest more than pays the taxes on the remaining properties, and does add a small percentage to the capital each fiscal year. However, as I said, your money is not growing your fortune, nor – at the moment – making us any money. Now that you've returned to the Magical World, this is something we can work on correcting. Which is another factor we will get to in a bit."

"Second, you asked about Vault access. Your Trust Vault was intended for outfitting you for school, and incidental spending – your school tuition is taken from the main vault. Last year, your Trust Vault would have been open to you with 1000 Galleons in it. This year an additional 1100 Galleons was added, and that amount will be added annually each year until you reach 15, when the amount raises to 1500 Galleons per year until age 17, when you will be awarded monetary access to all the Potter Vaults, save one general purpose Vault, which you already have access to – I've taken the liberty of having a duplicate key created for you. That Vault is properly the Evans Vault, your Mother started it when she started working summers her last few terms at Hogwarts, to the best of my knowledge, there are also some items in that Vault – it was stated in the Wills that you would be given full access to it once you gained the age of 11." At this point Boneblade pulled a jeweler's box from the pocket of his vest. "Also, as you have now seen the sun of your 11th Birthday, you are now entitled to this," and he handed the box carefully to Harry.

Curious, Harry held it in his hands for a moment before opening it, seeming not to have noticed the sudden complete silence from Draco and Mrs. Malfoy. At last he opened it to reveal a wide platinum band ring, with a crest repeated on each side of a single, large, flat-faceted ruby. He looked up at everyone, slightly confused. "I don't…"

Draco spoke up in a reverent tone. "It's your Heir's ring, Harry." He gave a small flourish of his hand, and his own Heir ring shimmered into view on his right ring finger. "Go ahead and put it on, it'll size itself to you." Harry did as he was told, gasping slightly as the ring shrank to fit snugly, but comfortably on his finger. He held his hand up to the light, studying the crest marked on the side of the ring. The shield was supported by two rampant lions. The face of the shield itself was divided with a chevron, in the bottom was a strange triangular symbol he'd never seen, with a circle and a vertical line dividing it. On the upper left was a wand, pointing downward and in, and the upper right held a sword pointing downward at the mirroring angle. As he was still examining it, it seemingly shimmered out of existence, however he was bewildered to note he could still feel it resting on his finger. Noting the expression on his face, Draco added another bit of explanation. "They're not meant to be showy, more for protection and for important occasions. If you want it to be visible, just will it to be, and it will sort of listen to what you want."

"As Young Master Malfoy has said, it is your family's Heir Ring. If you are able to locate a family Grimmorie or some-such, it should tell you exactly what protections and abilities the ring has. If not, our experts can examine it for you – for a fee, of course."

"Your Lord's Ring is currently residing in the main family Vault, and will become available to you when you assume your title upon reaching the age of 17. Now, if you'll forgive a clumsy segue, back to answering your questions, Young Master Potter… The Vaults and Accounts have hardly been handled at all, other than to be maintained, since that night 10 years ago, due to their having been placed in a Static Status. As for monies for your care to be given to your guardians, since the non-fiscal aspects of the will were blocked by an act of a member of the Wizengamot, arrangements for those payments were never able to be made. The 200 Galleon a month Stipend will be retroactively added to your Trust Vault at the end of this meeting, and unless proper Guardianship can be established, will continue to be deposited there monthly."

"It is my understanding that the Heirlooms and other items intended for your use before the age of 17 were all placed in the so-called Evans Vault, so you do have access to them now, if you wish." Boneblade leaned back in his chair, surveying the witch and young wizards in the room with him. "Now, as for the two issues I said we'd come back to. Unfortunately, the execution of the wills was blocked by someone high enough up that you will have to go through the Wizengamot to have the seal lifted. Since you have come forward to claim your monetary inheritance, however, you can choose an Account Manager and Overseer to see to it that your money is working for you again."

"Can I choose you?" Harry asked, uncertainly.

"Of course, young Mr. Potter. I would be honored to see our fortunes rise together. And for your Overseer? Do you have someone in mind, or would you prefer to leave that decision to me?"

"Is Griphook an option," he asked, hesitantly, not knowing the ins and outs of the Goblin-run bank.

"He is due for promotion, yes. A good choice, actually. I've had my eye on him for my department. You have a good eye for personnel, Mr. Potter."

"I… uh… thank you?"

Boneblade gave a strange, grating laugh. "You're quite welcome. Do you have any more questions?"

"If I have time later, could I see the Vault my Mum left for me?"

"Of course, of course. Just present the Evans key to any teller." He picked up the duplicate key, and passed it across to Harry, who nodded mutely, slipping it into a pocket. "I think that concludes our business, although the three of you are welcome to remain in the conference room until you've concluded any additional discussion you need it for. I bid you all good day." And without waiting for any response, he pushed back from the table, and left the room without another word.

As the door shut behind him, Harry looked almost expectantly at Draco and Mrs. Malfoy. Seeming to read his intention, Draco answered his unspoken question. "You've got plenty of money to keep you going for now, Harry. As long as you don't go completely crazy and try to buy gold-plated everything or something."

Mrs. Malfoy nodded – agreeing with her son's meaning, if not his wording. "Well Harry, shall we get back to your shopping?"

He gave a large, satisfied nod, and the three left the room, back to rejoin Hagrid in the Lobby.

**A/N: **First off, as usual my thanks to the lovely Lupinefire for her intrepid beta work. Now on to your regularly scheduled Author's notes. I realize that I drifted from the thread for a moment – this story is properly from Draco's POV, but I allowed a scene to take place that he wasn't present for. A no-no to be sure, but a scene that desperately wanted to happen. I promise to try not to let it happen again.

In addition to the standard disclaimer, I also should mention that TemptsFate is named for a Goblin in the great webcomic _Goblins_, of whom I am fond. Boneblade is named for a goblin alt a certain special someone of mine plays on WoW. (This is also why he uses the phrase "Time is money, friend," as do the Goblins in that universe.)

Today you're getting a two-fer. Since Chapter Two _and_ Chapter Three are both a little on the light side, I've decided to post them together. Hopefully you enjoy.


	3. Diagon Alley, Part Two

**A/N:** Not My Toys, Not My Sandbox. But I do so love the time I spend playing here…

Chapter Three

_Diagon Alley, Part 2_

When Harry and the Malfoys returned to the Lobby area, they found Hagrid, who looked anything but pleased. He did his best to cover the expression when he spotted them, but the damage had already been done to Harry's mood. "Everything all right there Harry?" The huge man inquired as they approached.

"Um, of course." Draco noticed an apparently well-practiced masking smile cover Harry's features. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Jus' making sure, Harry, jus' making sure. Ready to finish with your school things?"

Harry gave a more genuine, though not exactly enthusiastic smile at Draco and Mrs. Malfoy. "Yes, let's." And with that, they headed out of the British chapter of the Wizarding World's most well-known bank.

As the quartet walked down the stairway just outside the doors, Mrs. Malfoy took another glance at the list. "Draco informed me you'll be picking up your robes when your shopping is finished. Your wand is holstered. So next we should look either into your trunk or your cauldron, so we've a place to put everything else as we get it. It's your decision, but I would personally recommend the trunk – you should be able to find one with a permanent feather-light charm already set on it."

"I really don't know what I'm doing," admitted Harry, with a brief shrug of his shoulders. "So point me toward where I can buy a trunk?"

"That's a good, honest lad," said Mrs. Malfoy. "I know just the place. Normally they try to overprice new customers, but given who you are, and that I've bought there before, I think we can wrangle a fair deal out of them."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco caught a look of near-panic cross Hagrid's face. It was very hard to resist the urge to smirk. Then he remembered who he had been at eleven, and allowed a bit of it to show through on his face – he wouldn't want to be too out of character too soon, after all.

In short order, they were at Baggins' Baggage, his mother's favorite place to buy new luggage, and she was ushering them in – Hagrid, of course, having a bit of a time slipping sideways through the doorway. "I was going to have a new nameplate put on Draco's father's old trunk for him, but perhaps he ought to have a new one as well. You boys scurry along and look at the school trunks, and I'll have a short chat with the proprietor. Come collect me when you think you've settled on something." Draco recognized the short nod she gave at the end – not only a go-ahead with the shopping, but a signal that it was primarily his job to continue getting closer to Harry. Well enough, that was his plan already. But it was nice to know his mother was on board with it and thought it was her own idea.

Draco led him over to the _Young Adventurer_ line. "These are the ones I was looking at the last time we were in here," he said. "I never thought I'd get her to go along with getting me one!" He let his own excitement bleed into his tone, hoping it would be contagious.

"Draco – these are wicked – but… are you sure I have enough—"

Harry found himself cut off mid-sentence. "Harry, you have got more money in your Trust Vault right now than some grown Wizards make in a year. And your trunk is going to be something that lasts you at least all seven years at Hogwarts, maybe longer if you decide to travel after. Yes, you can afford it, and _yes_, you should go with something that's quality."

There was a bit of a perk up at that, seemingly at the idea that he was somehow being thrifty by spending his money wisely. "Well, all right then. Why do you like these so much?"

"Besides the fact that they look amazing and are bound in dragon hide making them rugged as all—" he glanced to make sure his mother was otherwise occupied and Hagrid was out of earshot. "Rugged as all bloody hell? They've got just about every feature that's legal to sell to someone our age in a trunk. Self-shrinking wardrobe racks, pull out shelving unit for books, cauldron and potions kit storage, broom racks, safety room—"

"Safety _room_?"

"These should be set in demo mode, so I can show you." Draco stood the trunk up on its end, and opened it that way, letting Harry see a small room, with camp bed, cold pantry, and a few chairs around a small table. "This type of feature was a big seller on high-end student trunks during the last war, and you can still find them on some lines like this one. I figure it'll make a quiet place to study if I don't get on with my year-mates in whatever house I get sorted in." He avoided openly stating that it would obviously be Slytherin, in case Hagrid had already badmouthed the house to Harry.

Closing the lid, and setting the trunk back lengthwise on the floor, he reopened it, and started pulling handles to show Harry the bounty of included storage features. He was enthusiastically showing Harry the compartment for Quidditch padding suited to any position, and a complete set of other equipment along with two broom racks when his mother wound their way through the store to them. "Having fun boys?"

"Hi Mum! Can I really have this one?"

"I already knew which trunk you were going to pick, my little Dragon. The question is, has Harry picked one out?"

"I like this one too, ma'am. And Draco's convinced me it's a good deal."

The shop owner smoothly stepped in. "And what hide would you like it finished with?"  
"Which one's the best?"

"I have all colors, and of course, being dragon-hide, they're unlikely to scuff or wear unevenly."

"No, I want to know if one is stronger than the others. Draco explained about how a lot of the protection on the trunk comes from the hide."

"Smart lad. Your best bet is Ukrainian Ironbelly, but that'll have an extra surcharge—"

"That's what I want, then."

"Are you certain?"

Draco stepped in. "I'm getting the Ironbelly, aren't I Mum?" At her nod, he turned a suddenly steely look toward the shopkeeper. "Are you saying that it's too good for him or something? I'm sure I can find something I like just as much elsewhere, if you aren't willing to sell to my friend."

"Of course, young Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter. I'll just be getting those from the back, and engraving your nameplates."

Draco smiled mentally. Once for his victory, twice for his mother's nod of approval, and thrice for the look of appreciation radiating from Harry.

In short order, the shopkeeper had returned, with both trunks levitated behind him. "Alright boys, pick a trunk to attune to your magic. I can't touch them barehanded until after you have. There'll be a bit of a sting as it attunes, then I can affix those nameplates."

As if by prearrangement, Harry went for the trunk on the right, and Draco to the one on the left. _Sinister_, Draco thought to himself with a mental chuckle at the Latin based double-meaning, _who knew_?

"Wand touch to nameplate to open, and they're permanently featherlight. Magic's all in the trunk, so you're not breaking the Underage Statute. Now if you'll step this way to settle payment…" The Drafts to Gringotts were written up and signed, and they left the store, the boys carrying their ultra-light trunks over their shoulders.

"Where to now, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry asked.

"That depends on how you feel about books," she said mysteriously.

"Oh, I love to read. I spend a lot of time in the library, since my cousin Dudley would rather do anything than be caught in there."

"Then Flourish and Blotts last then I think, as a treat for finishing shopping. Next closest are the Cauldron shop and the Apothecary."

"Sounds ok to me," he answered. Draco was beginning to wonder how such an agreeable boy was responsible for so much rule-breaking at school. But it was always possible that things weren't exactly as they seemed. He elected to hold out judgment.

Cauldrons and the Apothecary were quick enough. Draco's Godfather, Professor Snape, made his contributions to the school list very easy to understand, and it only took a moment to show Harry how to stow his new supplies. Draco followed suit by having his mother unshrink his, and putting them away in his own new trunk as well. The stop at Celestial Specialties was similarly easy – once Draco again explained that the expense was well worth it, as Harry would be using the telescope for at least a handful of years, and that if he didn't want to keep it later, the resale value was fairly decent provided he kept the instrument in good shape. It too was carefully stored away.

When Draco tried to stop and drool in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, his mother grabbed him by the back of his robe and pulled him along. Realizing there would be no wisdom at the moment in _predicting_ that Harry would make the team first year, he relented, and they moved along to Flourish & Blotts. Hagrid, by this time completely put out (and by turns utterly confused) begged off, and offered to stay outside and watch the trunks and owl.

There was a brief stop at the counter, where Mrs. Malfoy asked the rather harried looking girl at the till if someone could see to collecting the required books for Year One for Harry Potter, and hold them at the front as the three did a bit of browsing. The girl looked ready to say no, until the name sank in, then she gave a firm nod. Mrs. Malfoy moved them out a bit from the counter, then gave them an indulgent look. "Now Harry, there are a few things I'm going to insist you have, given that you were raised Muggle. After that you can have a bit of a wander, and see if there's anything else you'd like to pick up."

The first thing she steered him to was the stationary section. "You'll easily be able to owl-order more, but I would recommend at least a full ream of parchment to start. You'll want to start with one or two unbreakable bottles of black ink for schoolwork, and another of your choice of color for personal correspondence if you'd like. And as I don't imagine you've ever cut a quill before, purchase a package of pre-cut ones to tide you over until you have the knack. In fact…" She reached up onto a shelf Harry and Draco hadn't been looking at, and pulled down a box roughly the shape of a good sized book. The front was labeled: Quills and Script for Beginners, a Complete Guide and Kit. "I don't know why they don't put something like this on the list. Even a lot of wizard raised have never cut their own quills before going for their first year at Hogwarts." She took in the sight of Harry and Draco struggling to balance everything already in the pile, and summoned a shopping basket. "My fault," she apologized. "I forget sometimes when I don't have Lucius to carry things for me."

Next she led them into an admittedly small etiquette section. "Much of what you need to know you can learn if you decide to continue your friendship with Draco," she said, "but a reference never hurts," she said, pulling out a crisp-cornered volume titled Manners for Manors: An Etiquette Guide for Young Lords and Ladies. "I know it seems far too soon, but one day you will be Lord Potter, and it doesn't hurt to start learning the little things now."

Spreading out her arms, she gestured to the rest of the store. "I'll suggest you buy a basic history text or two – old Professor Binns has been stuck on the Goblin Wars for quite a long time now. Many boys your age are Quidditch mad – I'm sure Draco can help you there again. And he also might help you find some pleasure reading, or suggest other topics you might like. Oh, and if you care about your grade, you might stop in the Potions section and pick up the Beginners Guide – Draco will be able to point it out to you, his Godfather is the Professor of that subject. I'll be in periodicals when you've found everything you want.

In the end, Harry did buy the first two volumes of a History series written by an apparent competitor to the woman who had written the texts for their school, Hogwarts, a History, and the Absolute Brewers Guidebook, a handbook for beginning potioneers. He also picked up an odd little book called Quidditch Through The Ages, and a selection of pleasure reading – including a book intended for young children. Harry tried to insist he was too old for this Beedle chap, but Draco persuaded him that not reading it would be like entering school with blinders on – all the Wizard Raised, and even many of the Half-blooded but Muggle Raised students would have grown up knowing those stories.

The two boys rejoined Mrs. Malfoy, and they made their way to the front to collect Harry's school books and pay for his other purchases. Back out onto the Alley, everything again was safely stowed in the proper places in Harry's new Trunk, Draco again showing him how by doing likewise with his own.

Next was a quick stop at Madam Malkin's to pick up both boys' new wardrobes. They too were stowed away. "Think that mus' be everything," said Hagrid, trying not to let his displeasure at having spent an entire afternoon with two Malfoys show on his face. I'll jus be droppin' Harry back at the bus station and giving him his ticket."

"Nonsense Mr. Hagrid," said Mrs. Malfoy. "You have business of your own to attend to. Give the lad his ticket here, and we'll see him home. I don't like the idea of a child so young travelling very far by themselves, even if he does have his wand now – he hardly knows how to use it yet, does he?"

There was very little Hagrid could say to that. He pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket, and handed it to Harry, then seemed surprised to be hugged. Well, hugged so much as such a small boy could hug such a large adult. "Take care now, Harry, and I'll see yeh when yeh get ter Hogwarts." He gave a great sniffle, and then headed off in the direction of The Leaky Cauldron, presumably to use their floo.

"Now then boys, it's time for my favorite part of shopping – a pleasant meal to end things off right. I know just the place. Don't be worried, Harry, but I think we have to have a bit of a serious conversation, but it won't take long."

Harry gave a visible gulp, then turned his face to hers. "Yes, ma'am."

"No cause to worry, Harry. And no cause for Ma'am-ing me. Even Draco only does that when he's in serious trouble – which I promise you you're not."

**A/N:** As always, beta'd by the amazing Lupinefire. Any errors you find are mine, not hers. Probably obvious, but Baggins Baggage was named for some very particular Hobbits, who were in the habit of taking long journeys. They could've used some good luggage, I'm sure.

Thus concludes your (possibly rare) Two-fer posting day. But I'm in a good mood, we're moving, and these chapters were a bit on the shorter side. So I elected to post both of them today. I hope you've enjoyed reading them as much as I've enjoyed writing them!


	4. Lunch and Family Matters

**A/N**: Not my toys or Sandbox, but I do so enjoy my adventures here!

Chapter Four

_Lunch and Family Matters_

Mrs. Malfoy was as good as her word when it came to knowing just the place to go for a late lunch. In short order, the three shoppers were seated in a secluded corner booth of a quiet little restaurant just off the Alley. Having secured agreement from the boys, she ordered the table a Family Style lunch of shepherd's pie, accompanied by light summer salads. She informed their server that she would signal if they needed anything else, and to please leave the flagons of water and pumpkin juice. Then she cast privacy charms.

She stayed silent, as if to let the boys calm down as they began to eat. It appeared that after a brief sip of the pumpkin juice, Harry eschewed it in favor the water. But as Harry finished up his salad, she shot a look at Draco which he couldn't quite interpret, then turned her full attention on the Boy Who Lived. "Harry, child, I have some questions which may be a bit uncomfortable. I've cast a silencing spell around our table – no one will be able to hear what I ask, or what you answer. I know we've only just met, but as I've said, family is very important to me. Please feel that you can answer truthfully the things I ask, even if you find it difficult. I would like to find a way to help you, if I can."

Harry tilted his head to the side slightly. Draco was surprised to realize he was seeing a completely different aspect of him – he was literally watching as Harry tallied up everything that had happened in the day, weighing whether the woman Draco called 'Mum' was worth his trust. Finally, Harry's head returned to an upright posture, and a very serious, almost old-soul look came over his face. "Alright. But I'm sorry if I can't answer everything you want to know."

"Fair enough," said Mrs. Malfoy. "You are entitled to keep a few secrets to yourself – any boy is allowed that – but when you answer you'll do so truthfully?"

He nodded at her question.

"Then we shall chat while we continue eating. No need to delay a good lunch any longer." She gestured for Harry to serve himself a helping of the shepherd's pie, and only after he had begun to eat, did she start questioning. "How do your Aunt and Uncle feel about Magic?"

From what little Draco knew about Harry's supposed home-life, that opening was starting things off with a rather hard question. He was curious what sort of response his mother would get. Trying not to watch Harry too intently, he focused on keeping his face pointed at his food while they talked, only watching Harry out of the corners of his eyes.

"They hate it." Harry said simply, his fork halfway to his mouth. "I think it might scare them too, but mostly they hate it – even more, now probably. They hate anything that isn't _normal_, which means magic, which means… me." He flushed, obviously not having meant to say so much.

At that rather blunt answer, Mrs. Malfoy turned a peculiar shade, as though willing herself not to redden with anger on the boy's behalf. "You seem quite certain that they hate you, and I don't doubt that you have reason to feel that way. Are you willing to share some of those reasons with me?"

Flushing again, and looking a bit as though he'd backed himself into a trap, Harry let his fork fall back onto his plate. "I never hear my name from them – my cousin uses it sometimes, when he's talking his friends into a game of Harry-Hunting, but my Aunt and Uncle prefer to call me _Boy_ or _Freak_ or _Burden_. Until the letters started arriving addressed to the space assigned to me, and they became convinced the house was being watched, I slept in the cupboard under the stairs. I do a lot of the cooking, most of the cleaning, and pretty much all of the chores 'round the garden. They don't make my cousin Dudley do anything. And the only time I ever go on any sort of outing is when old Mrs. Figg isn't available to watch me for the day. I've tried to tell them they could leave me home by myself, but I think they're convinced I'll run amok. And they know visiting with her and her herd of cats is like an extra punishment in itself – don't get me wrong, she's a nice lady, but I can only hear the same stories about the same cats so many times. I think I could write a book about the life and adventures of Mr. Tufty and have it be word-for-word accurate to the way she tells it." He took a deep breath. "And I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. Adults never believe me. They just bring it up with Aunt Petunia – or worse, Uncle Vernon – and have it explained to them that I'm a horrid little boy full of lies, and I end up locked in the cupboard without food for a while."

Draco couldn't help but give a low whistle under his breath. He hadn't been able to detect a hint of deception in Harry's answer, and was fairly certain his mother hadn't been able to either. He'd heard once or twice in the halls in the future-past that the Boy-Who-Lived actually had a terrible home life, but he'd never believed it could be all that bad. Muggle, but tolerable for one who'd never known the difference.

His mother shot him a quick look for having whistled, then paused, obviously searching for where to begin. At least the mystery of avoiding the juice was explained. If they rarely fed the child properly, he hardly would've been getting regular treats. In retrospect she marveled that the Ice Cream at Fortescue's earlier hadn't made him ill. Finally she settled on the first follow-up question. "Child, what's Harry-Hunting?"

"Dudley and his gang like to chase me down and beat me up as much as they can get away with. I've gotten pretty fast and good at hiding to keep away from them most of the time, but not always. Usually they keep at it until I'm roughed up. They've only broken bones twice, though – that I'm certain of."

"I see." Her lips pursed together, Draco could see the wheels already turning in her head. Turning in his favor, he hoped. "And have your Aunt and Uncle ever struck you?"

"Not terribly often, but they turn a blind eye to Dudley. I think Uncle Vernon encourages it when no one's around to hear him. Mostly I'm punished for anything freakish – or anything that can be blamed on me instead of Dudley – by having my food cut down."

It was no wonder the boy was so scrawny! He'd likely been on starvation rations most of his life. Likely there were times it had been his magic keeping him alive until his next meal – stretching out each bit of nutrient to its absolute maximum. Draco had to stop himself from murmuring to himself in anger. He didn't even like Potter. But those conditions for a child were inhumane!

"And, I almost hesitate to ask this, how long have you been cooking for them?"

"Almost as long as I can remember. Aunt Petunia started me when I could reach the stove from a stepstool."

Draco's mother paused again. "I almost forgot – why do you say that they likely hate Magic even more now?"

"Oh!" Harry's eyes glinted a bit, at what was obviously something he wasn't supposed to find funny, as it was likely to come back against him personally later. "You can't tell anyone – I think it'll get Mr. Hagrid in trouble – but Dudley was being a right git when Mr. Hagrid found us, and… well… now he's got a pig tail to go with his personality."

Mrs. Malfoy was now openly trying to keep from balling her hands into fists. "Finish your lunch, boys," she said in a disturbingly calm tone. "It would appear we have at least one more thing to take care of today."

Draco took his unexpected feelings of malice toward the Dursleys out on his lunch. Harry managed a few more bites, then shuffled the food around on his plate until Mrs. Malfoy announced it was time that they should be going. Although neither boy knew it, both were wondering what additional task lay before them all.

MM

When they had paid and left the restaurant, leaving a rather generous tip for the discretion shown by their server, Mrs. Malfoy led the boys to what Draco knew – and Harry had explained to him – was a departure-only Apparation point. "Both of you, pay attention, please," said Mrs. Malfoy. "I'm going to side-along the two of you. Each of you take one of my hands, and place the other on the handle of your trunk, and in your case Harry, you'll want to make certain you're touching your owl's cage as well.. The tricky bit is that I'm not the one guiding our destination. Harry – is there a fence around the back garden at your Aunt and Uncle's house?"

"Yes Mrs. Malfoy."

"We've got to find something better for you to call me," she said, "that just doesn't do. But good, good. How high is the fence – higher than my head?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Excellent. I want you to picture in your mind that back garden, picture it as hard and as clearly as you can. I'm providing the spell and the power, but you'll be providing our direction. Start concentrating, and I'll take us on the count of five. One… Two… Three… Four… Five!"

Draco, who had never gotten quite used to being side-along Apparated, felt himself wobble a bit, and nearly lost his footing when they landed in a well-manicured back garden. He felt sympathy for Harry, and when he turned to look, sure enough, the only thing keeping the boy upright was his grip on Draco's Mother.

"Well, then. Is this the right garden, Harry?" The boy nodded, still a bit disoriented from his first experience with magical travel. "Excellent. Draco, leave your trunk here, and help Harry carry his up to the back door. I'll lead." And so she did, holding an attitude about her body as if she were marching headlong into a battle.

Before they'd even reached the back steps, they could hear raised voices from inside. "I can't go to school like this! Get rid of it! I don't care if you have to chop it off!"

"Nonsense Dudley, we'll schedule you for a proper surgery."

"And have the Hospital think we're a bunch of freaks? I should've shot faster, bloody great giant beat down the door on us, honestly, what kind of maniacs are these freaks? I should've expected trouble coming from your side after what happened at your sister's wedding, but no, I thought to myself, Petunia is a nice normal girl with the misfortune of an unnatural sister.

"Don't make this my fault, if you'd let him have his letter here, that thing wouldn't have come after us, and poor Dudders wouldn't be in this fix to begin with."

Mrs. Malfoy sighed, as she realized a polite knock wouldn't be heard over the din. Resigning herself to less pleasant means of gaining entry, she tried banging on the door. When that got no response either, she shook her head, turned to the boys and mouthed the words _Do as I say, not as I do_, and opened the door herself.

The kitchen looked like a warzone. Piles and piles of copies of Harry's letter were still all over the place. Dudley was turning himself in a circle, as if he thought somehow that actually seeing his new appendage rather than feeling it would make it disappear. Petunia and Vernon looked very nearly at each other's throats.

Mrs. Malfoy attempted to gain attention by clearing her throat, but was ignored when Dudley caught sight of Harry, who was lagging as far to the back of the group as he could. "It's your fault, you _bloody_ _**freak**_," he bellowed in a decent imitation of his father. Face purpling, he attempted to dive toward his cousin, failed to note the large trunk between them, and landed on the kitchen floor with a breathy grunt. At that, everyone fell silent.

"I'm terribly sorry," said Mrs. Malfoy in her politest tone. "I attempted to knock, but I'm afraid you didn't hear me. I've spent most of the day with your delightful nephew, a cousin of my own, actually, and I thought I'd bring him back in person. I was merely going to send him in, but when I heard about the, ah… Tail Incident, I thought I would offer to rectify the situation."

All three Dursleys spoke at once. "Get out of my house, freaks," ground out Vernon. "Get rid of it, get rid of it," whined Dudley. And Petunia, with a sort of dawning horror in her voice, softly said, "The letter said we were his only living relations."

With a fast enough cast that no one could object– she hadn't been the girls dueling champion in her year for nothing – Mrs. Malfoy quickly and painlessly dispatched Dudley's tail. Immediately she turned to Petunia. "You were informed he had no relatives? While we are a bit distant on the family tree, there is both myself, and my sister – well sisters, but one is unfit for children – that can claim him as cousin through the Black line."

Vernon huffed, ran through so many shades of color he was nearly his right hue again, then advanced aggressively on the trio. "You're his family on the _Freak_ side? You can _**have**_ him. Take him, get out of our home, and never let him darken our doorstep again." His proclamation was issued in a thunderous tone.

Not needing new instructions, Draco and Harry backpedaled out the door as fast as they could, quickly returning to the spot where they had left Draco's trunk. Draco hadn't thought he'd ever fear a Muggle – at least not while he had a wand on his person – and was a little disturbed to find that Vernon Dursley was utterly terrifying. Harry was trying not to whimper, and it was written all over his face that he was wondering where he'd sleep that night. "Harry," said Draco.

"Y-yeah Draco?"

"'s Alright mate. Family takes care of Family. It's practically Mum's motto. We'll get you sorted."

"Thanks Draco."

Mrs. Malfoy had arrived in time to catch their short exchange, and smiled. Family takes care of Family indeed. It gave her the perfect idea of where she needed to be next. "Just as before, boys," she said. "Except I'll be steering this time. No offense, Harry, but you've never been where we're going now."

MM

In no time at all, they were knocking on the door of a townhouse in what Draco and Harry both independently assumed was a nice suburb of London. A girl with bubblegum pink hair, who appeared to be in her late teens and was wearing a t-shirt that read _Weird Sisters_, opened the door. "Wotcher," she said. "The name's Tonks, can I help you?"

"My dear Nymphadora," said Draco's Mum, "unless things have very much changed, everyone in this house is named Tonks."

"How do you know my – Blimy!"

A voice called from deeper in the house. "Who is it Dora?"

"It's the Boy-Who-Lived, Dad! And another boy I don't know, and some Lady who knows my name!"

"Let them in," called a female voice this time. "And get some tea together – show them to the study!"

The girl with the Technicolor hair, who apparently wasn't fond of being named Nymphadora, ushered them inside, told the boys to leave their trunks in the entryway, and walked them down the main hallway into a well-appointed study. Seated there already, in an overstuffed leather chair by the fireplace, was a woman with long dark hair, wearing lime-green robes.

Mrs. Malfoy smiled as she entered the room. "'Dromeda," she greeted warmly. "Did we catch you coming off a shift, or about to go on?"

"Just got off, Cissa. If you're showing up here, and with the Boy-Who-Lived in tow," (Draco noticed Harry wince; it was obvious he was already starting to truly hate that nickname.) "There has got to be something very interesting going on. You haven't visited me at home since Nymphadora was a baby."

"Visited – who _is_ she Mum," interrupted Dora, who was coming in with tea things and a platter of half-sandwiches and petit fours.

"Until I know more about the situation, all you need to know is that she's your long-lost relative. I'll tell you more when I can. Now why don't you head up to your room and make sure you're on track with your summer reading. You don't want to be behind when you start the Auror Academy next month."

The bubblegum colored hair instantly turned a muddy blue color. "Yes, Mum. But I want details later!"

No one said anything until they'd heard the far-away sound of an almost-slammed door.

"Speaking of which," said the woman in lime green, "Draco, I'm your Aunt Andromeda, you may call me Aunt Andi, if you'd rather. Normally I go by 'Dromeda, but Aunt 'Dromeda could easily be misheard as disrespect."

"Pleased to meet you Aunt Andi," Draco said, with a half-bow before he took a seat on the settee on the other side of the low tea table. "I'm sorry we haven't had occasion to meet before." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his mother's nod of approval, and helped himself to a petit four.

"Yes… yes that will work," Mrs. Malfoy said, half to herself. "Harry, please feel free to call me Aunt Cissa," she gave him a warm smile, and waved him over to sit next to Draco, while she herself took the armchair next to her sister.

"I'll find out why in a moment," said their Hostess, "but if you're calling her Aunt Cissa, you must call me Aunt Andi as well, Harry. In case you're wondering about the rather loud choice of robe colors, I'm a healer at St. Mungo's – the Wizards Hospital – and all the healer staff wear this color to make us easier to find in an emergency."

Harry turned a rather peculiar colour, and managed to stammer out a response as he sat. "T-thank you. Aunt Cissa. Aunt Andi."

Andromeda turned to her rarely-seen sister. "So tell me Cissa, why exactly are you here, and how did you come to be in the company of young Mr. Potter? I'm sure it's an utterly fascinating story." Her tone was a bit dry, but her eyes betrayed that she was brimming with curiosity about the tale to be told.

In short order, Narcissa had run through the events of the day, how the boys had run into each other at Madam Malkin's, through shopping, through what Harry had told her at lunch – which caused a bit of protest from him when she began to repeat it, until she reminded the boy in question that Andromeda was also family – and a healer besides. After that, he let himself be drawn into a conversation with Draco concerning the intricacies and fine points of Quidditch, seemingly unaware that Draco was still keeping an ear towards the two women across the tea-table. The explanation slowed to a halt with the scene in the Dursley's kitchen, complete with Vernon throwing the three out with as much venom as he could muster.

"I was right," said 'Dromeda. "That was quite a tale. But I don't think you've quite finished. Why are you here, where do you go from here, and what is your Husband going to think about all this?"

"Well for one thing, you're still the Healer I trust the most, and the boy is in desperate need of an exam – and probably well behind on his inoculations besides. We need to know how badly he's suffering from malnutrition – what kind of potions regimen would get him back on track. He likely needs his eyes checked – all sorts of things. As for both my Husband, and where we –and I mean _we_ – go from here… I have a plan."

"A plan, you say? Why do I always think dangerous thoughts when you have a plan?"

"We were children! You are never going to let me forget that, are you!"

"Not as long as you're still talking to me. Stealing from Honeyduke's indeed."

"Can I get back to the good plan?"

"Of course Cissa, don't let me get in your way."

"Other than Sirius, who I believe was supposed to be Harry's Godfather, you and I have the closest claim of relation to him in the Wizarding world at the moment."

"We do?"

"You never paid any attention to family history. Our Great Aunt Dorea was his Great Grandmother. _In_ any case, your family is suitably a paragon of light and goodness, struck off the Black Family Tapestry and all. But you won't be able to train him properly for the role he will eventually have to play as Lord Potter. My Family… there were mistakes made during the war. Largely due to the actions of Abraxis, though I will admit that Lucius made his own blunders, but we can give Harry the training and experiences he needs, not to mention we already have Draco, showing we are prepared. I propose that we put together a case quickly – I don't know how long the… strongly worded verbal consent… will hold up, after all – and we go to the Wizengamot jointly, seeking to take charge of him together. Lord knows, legally Sirius probably made him heir to the House of Black anyway, which would give us an even stronger claim if we could find a copy of that document and permission to read it into evidence."

Andromeda couldn't help but drop her jaw a little at that. It was, at root, an ambitious plan, but one audacious enough it might actually work. "Have I ever mentioned that until Bellatrix lost her mind I always thought you were the scariest of the three of us?"

"No talk like that, sister dear, you'll have this deal ruined before it's struck. For the medical end to be official, will it need to be in your office?"

"Yes, I'll have to find his old records for comparison. I can make time for you first thing in the morning, if you'd like?"

"Yes, please. In the mean time, I'm going to get someone to help extract some of his memories to provide additional evidence of what he's suffered. There might be a rough patch there, but I think I can handle it. We'll see you tomorrow at 7?"

Until this point, Draco had been almost satisfied about his ability to keep Harry distracted. There had been a fleeting look of… something that had crossed the dark haired boy's face during the discussion of why a healer was needed that made Draco wonder if, in fact, Harry was as versed as Draco in paying attention to two discussions simultaneously, but it flickered by so quickly, he wondered if he'd imagined it. Now, however, he got his belated confirmation, when Harry whipped his head around to face the two women. "I'm not going to have to go back?"

"Not if we can help it, child," answered Narcissa, with a sympathetic look.

"Why does someone have to steal my memories?"

"Not steal," said Andromeda. "Make good copies that can be viewed by other people, in case we need them as evidence against your Aunt and Uncle as a reason they shouldn't get to keep custody of you, and why the people who picked them shouldn't get to pick who gets to raise you now. The person who helps you make the copies will show you what that means."

"Oh," Harry said simply, then turned back to Draco like an expectant puppy, waiting to be taught the next lesson.

Privately, Draco thought to himself that if Harry was really this socially stunted at 11, maybe it wasn't surprising that the last time around he'd ended up best mates with Granger and the Weasel. He'd have to work on that.

**A/N:** As always, beta-read by the lovely Lupinefire, any errors are mine, not hers. I do so look forward to the Chapter that comes next week, but I've been warned against double-posting just for the fun of it. Apparently I'm not allowed to run through my backlog for frivolous reasons, even if I do love posting chapters.

I'd also like to take a moment to profusely thank all of you who have so far reviewed, and/or added my little story to your favorites or follows. I am beyond touched, and more motivated than ever to keep writing. You all keep me inspired.


	5. New Beginnings

**A/N: **Not my toys or sandbox, I'm just playing my own little game with them. I promise to put them back where I found them…

Chapter Five

_New Beginnings_

The two Malfoys and Harry departed the Tonks' Townhouse shortly thereafter, with promises to be on time to 'Dromeda's St. Mungo's Office at 7AM the next morning. Rather than Mrs. Malfoy popping them away again, Harry was exposed to another form of Magical Travel – the Floo Network – via Aunt Andi's study. Mrs. Malfoy had Harry watch Draco very carefully as he threw a measured amount of Floo powder into the fireplace, stepped in while the flames were green, and carefully enunciated the words "Malfoy Manor!" She had Harry go next so if anything went wrong, she would be able to find him more easily.

Luckily for all of them, he'd been paying attention, and flew out of the foyer fireplace at the Manor, landing in an ungainly heap of arms and legs, his trunk pushing him another few feet across the floor.

"Bad luck, mate," said Draco, genuine sympathy in his voice. "Two new ways to travel in one day, and they're both hard on first timers. At least there wasn't a portkey involved!"

Before Harry could ask what a portkey was, Mrs. Malfoy gracefully stepped out of the fireplace herself, the flames returning to a cheerful orange shade as she moved clear of the hearthstones. "Welcome to our home, Harry," she said cheerfully. "You boys leave your trunks here, and run along up to Draco's room. I need to have a short discussion with Draco's father about arrangements over the next few days, and then make a fire-call to Draco's Godfather to ask a favor of him. I'll send one of the elves up to fetch the both of you in a little while."

The boys shrugged at each other, and then Draco grabbed Harry by the elbow, and practically dragged him along up the stairs. "C'mon Harry," he said, grinning as they pelted up to the second floor. When they reached the young host's bedroom door, Draco opened it wide, and ushered Harry inside as though he were an honoured guest, rather than a detested enemy from another lifetime. Harry, it seemed, was instantly enchanted by the fine example of what a privileged boy's bedroom could look like in the magical world. All the spelled toys were in loved – but working – shape. Draco had long ago divided both his toys and his bookshelves between which were intended to teach him something, and which were purely for entertainment (as far as he could tell, leastways). And as things were kept put away partly by his own enforced habits, and partly by the family elves, the room was immaculate, though comfortably lived in. The effect was visibly overwhelming on the smaller boy, who had grown up living in a cupboard.

"I'll never repeat this to my Mum and Father," said Draco, "but I know I'm spoiled. From what I can gather, they had quite a time having an heir in the first place, and I think they've overshot 'well taken care of and happy' by a bit. I'm not about to complain, but please don't think I don't know I'm spoiled." From what Draco had already seen and heard about Harry's cousin Dudley, he reckoned it would be important to stand out and make certain he didn't in any way resemble the spoiled brat of a bully around Harry if he could help it. Merlin, but he realized that was going to be an effort at times. "If you want to take a look at anything, go ahead. If you're curious, just ask."

Harry merely stood, taking in the room around him. Not the things themselves – the worn by love plush toys, the animated toy wizards and dragons, the bookshelf so high he wasn't sure he could reach the top shelf, or any of the other trappings of well-off youth. What he was taking in was the obvious love and care that had put them there.

As Draco watched, tears started to trace down Harry's cheeks – he didn't think the other boy even knew he was crying until a sudden sob startled them both. "Harry," he asked tentatively, "You alright there mate?"

And that opened the floodgate neither boy had realized was still in place. After a few moments – and the grateful use of a handkerchief Draco drug up from some drawer or another – Harry had calmed himself enough to ask the question that had sprung into his mind, starting it all. "D… d'you think my room would look something like this if that Dark Lord hadn't killed my Mum and Dad?"

"You might have different taste in things, but yeah, Harry, I do. They loved you enough to die protecting you. I think they would've doted on you even more than my parents do on me, maybe. So yeah."

Harry managed to finish pulling himself together, wiped his eyes a final time with his sleeve, deposited the soggy handkerchief into Draco's hamper, and then gave Draco a downright horrified look. Draco merely shook his head. "No worries. Family and all that. I'd have to look at the tapestry to be sure, but you might be my closest cousin on Mum's side, besides Nymphadora, and I didn't know about her until today either. And Mum taught me that Family looks out for Family. I won't tell anybody." He put out his hand. "I promise."

Harry took the offered hand and shook it. "Deal," he said, brightening up, a bit. "So… er… what kind of games do you have in the Magical World? I know Quidditch is the big sport, but what about board games, or card games, or anything like that?"

"Card games?" Draco grinned. "I'm the champ of my friends at Exploding Snap. Let me teach you how to play…"

MM

Both boys were fairly well covered in soot when one of the house elves finally popped in to retrieve them. Unfortunately, said elf managed to set off the pile of cards, causing a new layer of soot not only on the boys, but on herself as well. Used to this with Draco, she waved a hand, removing all the soot, and returning the three of them to presentable condition. Harry fell over backwards at the odd sight of the creature, but Draco sat up straighter. "Yes, Dipsy?"

"You mother is be wanting young Masters now," said the elf in its squeaky voice before it popped back out of the room."

"Would've been nice if she'd said where," commented Draco as he stood, then helped Harry to his feet. "But since she didn't, I'm going to guess probably the drawing room. She did say she was going to fire-call my Godfather. C'mon Harry – Mum won't be happy if she has to come up after us herself."

The two, now soot-free, made their way back down the stairs, and Draco led them up the hallway from the foyer, until he stopped at a closed door on the right hand side. He gave a quiet knock, then took a step back. In short order, his mother had opened the door. "Thank you for being prompt, boys." As they walked into the room, she gestured to a blonde haired man sitting by the sliding glass doors that overlooked the side garden. "Harry, that's your Uncle Lucius. And," here she pointed to a tall, lanky man with long dark hair, "this is Draco's Godfather Severus Snape. He'll be your Potions Professor when you start at Hogwarts."

Harry had reverted to his shy, more formal mode again. "Hello, U-uncle Lucius. Hello Professor Snape, sir."

"The Professor is also going to help you transfer some of your memories into copied vials in case we need them for evidence," said Aunt Cissa. "Draco, you may stay, or return to your room if you wish. Dinner will begin when we finish up here."

"I'll stay," Draco concluded swiftly, "just in case Harry needs any moral support." From the corner of his eye, he could see his Godfather trying not to scoff. It was no secret the man's hatred of Harry's Father ran deep, but Draco had a feeling that doing this would go a long way toward cutting off his hatred of Harry before it had a chance to really begin.

"Very good, Draco. That's very good of you. You boys come over here to the lounger, then, and take seats next to each other. And then –"

"And then," cut in Severus sharply, "you could perhaps turn over the process to the one actually performing it?"

"Of course, Severus. I didn't mean to step on your toes. Listen to Professor Snape, Harry. He's very good at what he does."

"Yes ma'am," said Harry, immediately correcting himself, "Yes Aunt Cissa."

Severus pulled the ottoman over close to the lounger, and sat himself down directly in front of Harry. "Mr. Potter," he said, in a low, sibilant voice, "if I am to help you extract copies of these memories, I must first see them in your mind. The way we will do this is as follows. I want you to think in general about your relations and how they treated you for the whole of your life. I will use a spell that allows me to see your thoughts. I will find a memory, and play it back. After I have played back a suitable memory, I will leave your mind, and we will go through the process of extracting a copy of that exact memory then, as it will at that moment be freshest in your mind." He leaned back for a moment. "I warn you, if your life has been as… disagreeable as Narcissa informs me, this will very possibly be an unpleasant process."

Harry visibly gulped, then nodded. "If Aunt Cissa thinks it's something I need to do to get away from them, then it's something I need to do," he said. "I just hope she's right."

"Alright then, focus on your relatives, Mr. Potter." Severus let a moment pass, then, "Legilimens."

There was, then, an odd sort of seeming exchange between them. Harry's face would tighten and slacken, sometimes looking completely pained. Snape's face gradually went from disbelieving to furious. Eventually, they seemed to settle into an appropriate memory to start with, played from start to finish, and Severus emerged from Harry's mind. "Alright Harry," (Draco immediately noticed the change in address), focus on the memory we were just in. Remember its every detail. When you feel my wand tip against the side of your head, wait until you feel a tug on that memory, and try to focus on feeling it duplicate, one copy going away with my wand."

The memory strand was removed to a pensieve, checked over by Severus, and the first extraction was declared a success. The memory was then drained from the basin, and stoppered into an unbreakable crystal vial, with a label affixed – marked in Severus's impeccable small handwriting.

Before going back to Harry, Severus turned to Narcissa. "There are… many relevant memories that aught be copied. I'm not sure you should hold dinner. If Draco insists on staying – which may well be a good idea – send in a plate of sandwiches or some such for him, and something to drink. Only water for Harry and myself, and I doubt either of us will be eating tonight. I will send through a nutrient potion for him when I return home. And Cissa?"

She nodded for him to continue.

"I… apologize for my assumptions about your asking me to bring along two calming draughts. I feel they may both be needed."

"You're quite forgiven, Severus. I remember your history with that lot – both sides of it."

It was settled out that Draco was, indeed, staying for the rest of the memory extractions – if for no other reason than to give Harry a friendly diversion during breaks. Narcissa and Lucius went on to their now less-delayed dinner, and sent in what would've been Draco's plate, along with a pitcher of water and three glasses – and a note informing them that the house elves had been given instructions to keep the pitcher full, and cool rather than cold. If anyone needed anything before they returned, they were to send Dipsy with the message.

The slow and agonizing process continued not only through dinner, but long after it. After the third time Draco fell asleep, he was allowed to stay asleep, as the adults knew waking him would only result in another request for a pepper-up potion they didn't want to give him. Harry soldiered on; it was possibly only due to the discomfort and upset of the caliber of memories that Professor Snape was managing to dredge up out of his subconscious that he remained awake.

MM

In the morning, Draco awoke to his mother gently shaking his shoulder. "I doubt you're comfortable having slept on that lounger all night," she said, "but that was a good thing you did for your cousin. I had Dipsy put his things in the room across the hall from yours – see if you can wake him, and get him going. There's a pepper-up on the table for each of you, if you need it. I'm sorry it's so early, but we did promise 'Dromeda we'd be there at 7." He nodded at his mother, who hurried out of the room, leaving him alone with Harry, who was crashed out in an armchair next to the now-cold fireplace.

Gritting his teeth for what might be a disaster of an experience, Draco crept close to the chair. "Harry," he said, sotto voice. "It's time to get up now."

Harry mumbled something that might have been about frying bacon in just a moment. "Harry, we need to get moving, we can't be late for your appointment," he said, a hair louder.

"Can't be time to get up," said Harry, a bit more distinctly, "Just got to sleep…"

_How late had they been up_, Draco wondered to himself. "Harry!"

At the sound of Draco's near-shout, Harry shot up, then almost managed to fall out of the chair he had been sleeping in.

"Sorry about that," said Draco, although a part of him had relished it. "We need to get ready for the day – not too long until we have to leave for your appointment."

Harry nodded. "Where do I—"

"For the moment they've put you right across from me. Your trunk should be there already. You'll just want casual robes for today. C'mon, let's go get ready."

On the way upstairs, Draco explained how the plumbing worked for the bath. Worried Harry would nod off again, he handed him one of the two vials of pepper-up. "Drink this. Makes steam come out your ears for a second, but wakes you up – cures colds, too. Nice stuff." And he drank his own vial to show Harry it was both harmless and effective. Harry, seemingly a bit delirious from lack of proper sleep, giggled as the steam billowed out Draco's ears. "Right then, into your room. If you're not back in the hall by a few minutes after I am, I'm going to send out search parties."

As it turned out, Harry was waiting when Draco made it back to the hallway. _Benefit of naturally untamable hair_, Draco thought. Together they headed downstairs, Draco leading the way to a very swift breakfast before it was time to leave.

MM

At a quarter 'til seven – and after far too little breakfast, so far as Draco was concerned – Narcissa side-alonged the two boys with her into the arrival room at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Harry appeared to be immediately put off by the already bustling room. Draco wished he was asleep again, but put a steadying hand on Harry's shoulder just the same. His Mum led the two of them to the desk. "Good morning," she said politely to the receptionist. "We have a 7 o'clock appointment with Healer Tonks. I know the way to her office, if you're busy."

Without looking up, the girl on duty nodded her head. "Second Floor, take a right, second door on your left," she said, as if she hadn't even heard the bit about knowing where the office was. Narcissa blinked twice, then smiled sweetly and thanked the girl for the unneeded help.

"Come along boys," she said as she headed for the lift. "Up to the pediatric ward we go."

When they arrived at 'Dromeda's office, they found the door unlocked, but no one inside. Mrs. Malfoy bade Harry to sit on the edge of the gurney in the center of the larger of the two connected rooms while they waited. Their wait was not long, however, as Healer Tonks appeared shortly, covered with dust, and carrying a thin file folder. "Whoo," she sighed dramatically. "Sorry to keep you waiting. You do not want to know the size of the feral dust-bunnies I had to fight my way past to find this thing. It was back in deep storage, hidden in the 'inactive files' section of the old records."

"And a good morning to you too, 'Dromeda."

"Yes, good morning Cissa. Draco, Harry, good morning to you as well. Are you ready to get started Harry? Because I'm not, I need to look through this first." She took a seat on the rolling stool next to the gurney. She set the file down on the counter-height desk that ran along that portion of the wall, and flipped it open. Making a few notes on a stray scrap of parchment, and muttering to herself, she slowly paged her way through the short file. When she reached the end, she scrawled a few more brief notes, then looked up at everyone's intent faces.

"Well, it looks like everything was in fine order until your one-year checkup. After that, there's nothing. You weren't even brought in to be properly gone over on the night your parents met their untimely end – highly irregular, and very irresponsible of whoever it was who presumed de-facto guardianship before you were placed with your Aunt and Uncle Dursley. That alone is a mark against them, whosoever they may be. Ready for your first real exam in ten years, Harry?"

Harry nodded, and complied when she motioned for him to lie down. Healer Tonks began wordlessly casting different diagnostic charms, noting down on her parchment whatever information it was that they were giving to her. Glancing between her spell readouts and what she'd written down, she dismissed the spells she had running, and frowned. "There's something a bit peculiar going on Harry. I'm afraid I'm going to have to run some deeper scans. These may tingle a bit as they interact with your own magic, but they should _not_ hurt. If they _do_, or if they begin to make you _overly_ uncomfortable, you are to tell me at once. Do you understand?" At his nod, she smiled. "Good lad."

At the first of the next set of spells she cast, he wriggled a bit, trying to get used to the sudden, strange feeling. When she'd cast the second spell, he spoke up, "It feels like sharp bugs," he said. "It doesn't hurt, but it feels really weird – are we almost done with these?"

The lime-robed woman gave him a gentle smile. "One more spell in this set, Harry, you won't have to put up with that nasty crawly feeling much longer." Wordlessly, she cast the third spell.

At first, no one noticed the change in Harry's famous scar. Because the onset of the third spell was when Harry started screaming.

**A/N:** I really feel the need to apologize on two counts. Once for the shortness of the chapter, and again for the cliffhanger. Unfortunately they spring from the same cause – sometimes a chapter just insists on breaking at a certain point, and resists all attempts to force it to do otherwise. Thank you for continuing on this journey with me, and I hope you dial in next time to find out what all the screaming is about, and just what's to be done about it. As always, beta-read by the amazing and wonderful Lupinefire. The errors are mine, not hers, as I'm prone to tinkering when she's not looking.

As to the location of Andromeda's office, I thought it made the most sense to put the pediatric healers on the floor specializing in magical illnesses.


	6. Adventutes at Mungos

**A/N:** Just taking a few favorite toys for a spin. They aren't mine, and it isn't my sandbox, but I surely enjoy playing here.

Chapter Six

_Adventures at Mungo's_

_At first, no one noticed the change in Harry's famous scar. Because the onset of the third spell was when Harry started screaming…_

Healer Tonks immediately canceled the three spells she had running, and quickly shot what must have been a medical stasis spell at Harry. As an alarm started sounding from the hallway, Draco looked from the suddenly serious look on her face to his mother, who appeared absolutely horrified. As he heard several sets of feet come pelting toward the office door, he scooted his chair as far back against the wall as it would go.

The two students – at least that's what Draco assumed the lighter shade of green meant – stayed quiet as 'Dromeda quickly spelled her original data onto one side of the wall, then carefully layered several new vital information tracing spells on Harry, projecting their constantly changing data onto another section of wall.

"Should those readouts be changing like that while he's in stasis," ventured one of the newcomers tentatively – the male.

"Honestly, no. In case you hadn't noticed, the patient shouldn't be screaming, either. But right now, we haven't figured out exactly what's going on. Note the discharge from the curse scar?" She didn't let them answer, steamrolling over any opportunity they might have had to react to the fact that it was the famous Harry Potter who was in stasis on the exam gurney. "Albard, turn off that blasted alarm, and get a Cursebreaker from Gringotts over here as fast as possible. I'll pay them myself if I have to. Crenshaw, go drag Healer Benton out from her office. Tell her she's not going to want to miss this one. After that, stay close by but out of the way, both of you. And don't make me remind you about patient confidentiality."

"Yes Healer Tonks," they chorused in unison, then pelted out the door as if they had hellhounds nipping at their heels.

The wait seemed interminable. In the meantime, 'Dromeda carefully collected a sample of the dark not-quite-blood-colored sludge that was oozing out of Harry's scar, and sealed the jar, then wiped his forehead temporarily clean, and cast a controlled incendio on the cloth she'd cleaned his forehead with. Draco timidly spoke up. "Aunt Andi? Will Harry be OK?"

"Right as rain once we figure out what happened, I'm sure. Just have to know what went haywire if we're going to fix it."

Draco found himself breathing a mental sigh of relief – he hadn't come back in time just to accidentally lead to the premature death of the Boy Who Lived, after all. He needed Harry alive and able to grow into someone the Dark Lord would fear.

MM

Four hours later, Harry's screams had quieted to pained whimpers that still seemed to have an effect on everyone in the room. Draco and his Mother were still setting back as far into the corner as they could reasonably be scooted. Aunt Andi, despite Draco's impression that she was not the most senior Healer in the bunch, was still feverishly burning with energy, as though she too was the victim of a mysterious malady. The two Healers-in-Training were still lingering at the fringes, waiting for any sort of order or assignment menial enough they could carry out, and looking simultaneously excited and frightened to be so near the whirlwind of a storm that seemed to swirl around them. Healer Benton was looking mostly puzzled – as though she knew the solutions should be right in front of them, but were obfuscated from their view. And the low-level Cursebreaker that Gringotts had initially sent had sent back to the bank for someone of a higher rank, so now the room was stuffed with two more professionals – a human Junior Cursebreaker called Fetlank, and a goblin Senior Cursebreaker called Brigtooth.

Brigtooth, being privy to some of the more important clients and exchanges – at least in his local branch – seemed aware the Potter accounts had become active again, and that he was dealing with a very important client. He had insisted in total silence while he examined the boy, and that the others, if they insisted on staying, move back as far as they could. The toothsome fellow placed his hands in the air above Harry – one above his head, one above his heart – and began what Draco assumed was some sort of Goblin diagnostic or assessment charm. As he finished, he projected the results up above Healer Tonks' detailed biological readout.

"Now," said Brigtooth, rather authoritatively. "As you can see," noticing the blank stares of everyone save the Junior Cursebreaker, he shook his head and swore under his breath – seemingly at himself – then waved a hand, translating the Gobledegook into English on the readout he'd just created. "Again, as you can see – it would appear that whatever dark magic it is that is manifest in this boy's scar has been slowly wearing away at the bind on his magic, strengthening itself each time a small, measured amount breaks free. Your scans were a step or so away from being able to detect this, so as a self-preservation, that same-said dark magic created a backlash, seeming to harm the boy. I believe because a full breakdown of the bind would allow the boy's natural defenses to destroy it, should such a thing occur at this point in time. Although, if it is allowed to feed in small doses for too much longer, it will be strong enough to defend itself when the binding erodes completely."

"Binding?" Healer Tonks' eyes were filled with fury. "There is no record of a binding done on this boy!"

"Perhaps it was done illegally," conjectured Brigtooth in a strangely even tone. "That, I cannot say. I can tell you it appears the bind was set to naturally expire when the boy reached an age between 14 and 17, depending on his use of magic, no doubt. However, due to erosion from the dark magic in his scar, I give it no more than a year before it erodes completely. We have no way of knowing what will happen then. As I said, at that time, the dark magic may be strong enough to hold its own against his natural defenses."

"What do you suggest, then?" Healer Benton seemed tense, but a good deal calmer in her questioning.

Brigtooth grinned in a grim sort of way. "Dissolve the binding on his core. Let the magics fight it out. Support the boy as much as possible – perhaps a focused protection ritual from any remaining family members. If you succeed, the dark magic will be vanquished, and the boy free from its draining and other ill effects. If you do not succeed, the result will be the same as if the magic itself had dissolved the bond, all you do is accelerate the otherwise inevitable. If dark magic is what I think it is, then you had better hope the boy's magic wins. I'll need that sample of the residue you took earlier to take back to the facilities to run tests on."

"What is it that you think it is," asked Healer Benton, rather abruptly.

"If the Young Lord Potter survives, he or one of his Authorized Representatives may contact his Account Manager for details, as it is a matter of concern to the Potter Accounts and Estate. That is all I can say on the matter."

Draco was brought up short by the Goblin referring to Harry as the Young Lord Potter, rather than the Potter Heir. What exactly was _**in**_ that scar? He was so caught up in his confusion, that he nearly missed what else was going on around him.

'Dromeda handed over the sample jar she had taken earlier. "Thank you for your consultation and advice, Brigtooth. Have them charge your fee, and that of your Junior counterpart to my account," she breathed with an air of finality and resignation. Before the Cursebreakers had even left the room, she hurriedly took another sample, just as she had done before – though she was able to obtain much less of the putrid substance this time, as the apprentice healers had been tasked with keeping Harry's forehead clear. That job done, she turned to the other members of Mungo's staff. "Prepare a Ritual Room as soon as is possible – I know just the one to use. We'll be taking the Deep Room if it isn't otherwise occupied, but last I looked nothing else was on the docket today down there. Healer Benton, do you mind conducting things, and removing the binding for us? I myself am distant family, so I'll need to be a part of this. I'll just be flooing my daughter now… Oh, Cissa, Draco? Do you mind?"

"Mind saving our young cousin? Of course we don't mind. Draco?"

"Of course."

Healer Tonks paused for a moment before making the fire-call to her house. "Bella would never work, but it's a shame Sirius was locked away without trial. He'd do this in a heartbeat, I'm sure of it."

"No trial? We're going to need to talk after this is over."

"After, yes. We may be in for a long fight."

MM

The Ritual space known as the _Deep Room_ was a large room deep in the basement of St. Mungo's that seemed to be hollowed completely out of the living basalt or some other rugged stone. The inside surfaces were completely smooth, save for engravings on the floor, which metered out a perfect circle which surrounded a raised slab of the rock the room was made from. At strategic points of the circle, it encapsulated smaller circles, which could be used for various components – marking It out as an elemental circle, a pentacle, a triangle, or many other combinations Draco knew must exist, but wasn't personally aware of. He hadn't been aware that Healing used ritual magic, but supposed he shouldn't be surprised – after all, Healing was a field that used both some of the oldest, and some of the newest in what Magic had to offer.

Harry was brought in using a Mobilicorpus, his clothes swapped out for a swath of white cloth, and he was placed on the raised stone slab, still whimpering periodically in gut wrenching tones. In a corner of the room, Healer Tonks was apparently briefing Healer Benton on which Ritual she wanted to use, and how quickly it should be started once the binding on Harry's Magic was removed.

After their brief conference ended, set-up began, with running commentary to help the Malfoys – and the newly arrived Dora Tonks – understand what was happening. Harry's wand was placed on his chest, perfectly parallel with his body (and affixed to the cloth with a sticking charm, should he move during the ritual). It was, they said, to give his magic something it was already in tune with to help focus it. At the four Cardinal Points were placed small platinum bowls containing purified water, consecrated earth, a bluebell flame, and a small self-contained vortex of air. Healer Benton explained that since the Dark Magic in his famous scar was unnatural in nature, the grounding force of the four natural elements should help to drive it out.

Then they began to place people. Draco and Dora were placed in the circles to the left and right of the platform, if taken through on a parallel axis. Apparently, because they were closest in age, their magic would have the strongest call to his, even if their blood was farthest away. Being the much closer of the two, Draco was placed in the spot across from Harry's head. Beside his part in the ritual, he was to watch the scar for anything that might seem to be dangerous or out of the ordinary – this ignoring the fact that he really knew nothing about the scar at all, and knew even less about Healing or about Rituals. 'Dromeda and Cissa were placed opposite each other on the perpendicular axis to the platform. Similarly, their mature and free cores would call to his and guide it, and their blood ties were just a bit closer. Healer Benton would be ranging freely around the edge of the circle, calling out their parts for them to repeat. Healer Tonks, having the unbreakable bond of being his personal Healer at the moment, was a "safe" person to know his, and all their true name – when the ritual was over, it would be her job to Obliviate those bit of information from the memories of all present except Harry, who had probably never even heard his true name after achieving an age where he would be old enough to remember it. If he remembered anything from the ritual, he would be allowed to retain the knowledge of his own true name.

After the people had been placed, the points of the circle not already claimed by people or elemental offerings were filled with unlit pillar candles. Their potential spontaneous lighting or extinguishing would give any stray magic in the air an outlet. "Alright," said Healer Benton. "I think we're ready to start this party. I'll be trying to monitor Harry by visual cues only, as any additional magic on top of the ritual may just confuse things. Is everyone ready?" At their calls of assent, she nodded, and extinguished all light, save for that from the bluebell flame in the elemental position for fire. "Once I release the binding, and wait a few seconds for any immediate backlash, I'll begin calling out the ritual. The order will be Draco, Dora, Mrs. Malfoy, and Healer Tonks. We may need to repeat, or go to a deeper level of the ritual. I will call out only your first name as I know it – when you repeat, you must use your True full name. If we have to cycle into deeper levels of the ritual, a small willing blood offering will be required from each of you, merely a small cut across the palm. This is your warning. Are we still ready? This is your last opportunity to back out."

Draco thought briefly on what he was about to do. Both the Light and the Dark had long theorized about the connection between Harry and the Dark Lord having something to do with Harry's Scar. He may be crippling his own plan. On the other hand, he would be saving Harry from being manipulated, and removing one advantage the Dark Lord had. It also would potentially make his hopeful ally stronger – binds on one's magic were serious business indeed. And it would be another mark against whomever had assumed Guardianship at the death of the Potters. As those thoughts whizzed through his head, he voiced his consent to the ritual once again. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon.

No sooner had they all given their second round of agreement to the ritual, but Healer Benton raised her wand, and uttered the complicated spell needed to remove the binding on one's magic without being the one to have bound the magic in the first place. As she finished the incantation, she lifted a platinum athame in her left hand, and made a sharp severing motion parallel to Harry's body, in time with her final syllable.

Harry's now seemingly unconscious body rose up into the air above the stone platform a bit, and glowed with a sickly green color – both things no one, not even the Healers if one were judging from the gasps, had expected.

Far more quickly than he had anticipated, Healer Benton was speaking. "I Draco," she said.

"I Draconis Lucius Severus Malfoy," he somewhat managed to repeat.

"Offer forth the strength of my magic, the guiding light of my own core, to light and aide my Cousin Hargrave Jamison Sirius Potter in his fight against this lingering curse…"

"Offer forth the strength of my magic, the guiding light of my own core, to light and aide my Cousin Hargrave Jamison Sirius Potter in his fight against this lingering curse…"

"I lend him my strength, deepened by the ties of blood…"

"I lend him my strength, deepened by the ties of blood."

"I offer my power to see him through this struggle, and offer my kinship, once lost, to aide him after."

"I offer my power to see him through this struggle, and offer my kinship, once lost, to aide him after."

Draco drew a deep breath as Healer Benton moved on to Tonks, surprised by how much the ritual was drawing out of him already. The green light emanating from Harry had started to pulse, and a few of the candles had puffed into green flames. He was no expert – in fact knew nothing about the ritual – but he was fairly certain that wasn't a good sign. Risking a glance at Harry, he saw that the scar was oozing that putrid substance again. Was it good that it was coming out? Or was it a sign that the scar was going to split farther open at any second. It had already oozed once, he elected that it wasn't quite worrisome enough to interrupt the ritual to report. Yet.

Eventually, Healer Benton had finished taking Healer Tonks through the ritual recitation. Draco wondered if he'd be saying the same thing, in the sickly light of the room – now lit by four green-burning candles along with Harry's body – or if they were going "deeper" into the ritual after just one round, forced to because of what had already happened. In short order, he had his answer, as Healer Benton came to stand beside him. "Hold up your hand, palm up" she said, sotto voice. "I'm sorry about the cut, try not to flinch, and I'll heal you up right as rain when we're all through this."

She produced a boline from one of the deep pockets of her Healer's robes, and as she intoned for him to repeat, she slowly cut a line across the palm of his right hand. "Blood calls to blood."

"Blood calls to blood," he repeated, trying to keep the flinch out of his voice.

"I Draco…"

"I Draconis Lucius Severus Malfoy…"

"Call to you Hargrave Jamison Sirius Potter, to take from me the reserves you need to finish this fight…"

"Call to you Hargrave Jamison Sirius Potter, to take from me the reserves you need to finish this fight…"

"I call for you to see it through, to conquer, as your family since times of old has been one of proud warriors…"

"I call for you to see it through, to conquer, as your family since times of old has been one of proud warriors…"

"I challenge you through our bond of kinship to triumph in this battle, with the help of we who share your blood."

"I challenge you through our bond of kinship to triumph in this battle, with the help of we who share your blood."

The lights were pulsing through both the sickly green and a cooling blue now, both those colors arising from Harry's body, and from the candles. The speed of the pulsing increased all the way around the circle, and so by the time Healer Benton came back to Draco, he expected the ritual to finally repeat. Instead, it changed once again. He hoped for the final time, he was starting to be able to feel the pull on his magic – presumably from Harry.

"I Draco…"

"I Draconis Lucius Severus Malfoy…"

"Do swear by the kinship we share, to provide you with all the protections that blood can provide in this great fight you face…"

"Do swear by the kinship we share, to provide you with all the protections that blood can provide in this great fight you face…"

"I offer my blood, my kinship, my very magic to see you through…"

"I offer my blood, my kinship, my very magic to see you through…"

"And by the power of those three, I join you in ordering the unnatural magic out of your body and spirit, that it not trouble you again."

"And by the power of those three, I join you in ordering the unnatural magic _out_ of your body and spirit, that it _not_ trouble you _again_!"

Expecting Healer Benton to move on to Dora, Draco gathered his strength to keep from slumping to the floor. But there was apparently no need for her to do so. As Draco struggled to keep his feet, a warm wind shot out in all directions from Harry, extinguishing all the candles, and vanishing all the elemental offerings. Harry's body began to glow a pure, calming blue as he slowly lowered back to lay on the platform. As he settled on it, a dim wraith-looking figure rose up out of Harry's scar, then scattered like smoke in the wind. Draco was a bit unsettled to note it's similarity to the figure of the Dark Lord.

"What's going on?" Harry asked weakly. "And why does my head hurt so much?"

Healer Benton quickly cast a Lumos, and informed the other four that they could move from their points around the circle. As Aunt Andi began running diagnostics – including the deep diagnostics that had caused trouble before, Healer Benton directed her wand at Harry's head. The area around the scar was caked both with the remnants of the putrid black substance, and with tacky-fresh red blood. Although it appeared irritated and puffy, the appearance of the scar itself was much diminished from when they had first come to Hospital that morning.

Healer Tonks spoke up at last. "I think we should get Harry into a regular room now. I can run a few more specialized diagnostic spells, and we can all talk about what just happened. If Healer Benton will send word to ready a room for him, I'll see to healing all our hands." She did, and as she made her way around, she also subtly obliviated everyone of everyone else's true names, ending with Healer Benton when the orderlies were making their way in to remove the group of them, then presumably neutralize, ground, and charge the ritual space for the next time it would be needed.

**A/N: **Alright, well, that was fun. *looks around* Everyone still in one piece? I feel I should apologize again for the shortness of the chapter – there are some longer ones coming up, and that makes these feel a little on the short side.

A note, for those who may not know: Athame and Boline are both types of ritual knives. The Athame is used only for symbolic cutting, and typically has a straight blade. The Boline is for actual cuts (usually collection of plants and such), it typically has a curved blade. In other news, I may do too much research.

Draco certainly seemed interested in that Goblin Cursebreaker's reactions, but we may have to wait a bit to see what comes of it. You'll have to see.

Tune in next week for another installment – I'm always happy to know you lot are around. 16 follows in 5 chapters… I'm beyond flattered folks, beyond flattered.

Oh, and a plug for someone else – if you're looking for another fic that updates weekly, I heartily recommend Harry Crow by robst (Story number 8186071 ). It's one of the best "Harry has a different childhood" stories I've read in a while, and it's one I follow myself.

And as always, last but not never least – I must thank my wonderful beta Lupinefire; any errors you find are surely mine and not hers. I've a terrible habit of tinkering after she's had the chapter.


	7. Explanations, Revelations, and Recovery

**A/N:** I know I should be keeping them in mint condition – especially since they aren't mine and neither is the playset, but I just can't help playing with some of my favorite action figures!

Chapter Seven

_Explanations, Revelations, and the Road to Recovery_

With Harry snugly settled into a room, everyone carefully obliviated of the relevant True Names, and Healer Benton headed off to write up the outcome of the morning's emergency alert, Healer Tonks moved in enough chairs for all of them, and ordered up a lovely lunch from the Hospital's Cafeteria Elves. Merely broth and toast for Harry at the moment, along with a nutrient potion and a pain potion for his head. Everyone else was treated to Mungo's famous chicken strew.

"So," started Narcissa. "What's the verdict?" (Draco was glad she asked – he wanted and probably needed to know as much as he could so he could nudge things in the right direction if his Mother balked at any point, but it would seem odd for him to ask that question at his age. Or at least, in such a casual tone.)

"Well, we know from the readouts – all recorded, thank goodness for the spells on that wall – that the Binding was put on Harry's magic sometime after he turned one – but there's no record of it in his file. That virtually guaranties that whoever presumed guardianship is the one to have placed it. That's a good mark for us – a binding placed without proper medical supervision can be very dangerous"

"Dangerous like how," Harry asked, looking up from his broth.

"If improperly placed – or placed in conjunction with another active long-term spell – like whatever it was anchored to your scar – bindings can actually chafe away at a youngster's core, shearing off bits of it periodically, and preventing the beneficial bursts of accidental magic that help protect a young witch or wizard from harm. They can also strangle a core, leaving it unable to grow properly. Your scans indicate that while there was some damage done, it's nothing that won't repair itself with time, and with us fixing a few other problems."

"Other problems," probed Narcissa, "what other problems?"

"Well, as his core was hardly active, I can't tell what caused all of the healed injuries I was able to catalog, but I can see plain as day that he was both malnourished and undernourished. That's come dangerously close to stunting the growth of his core as well – and has, in fact, stunted some of his physical development. Without a core at full strength to help stretch the nutrients he _was_ managing to get, the physical body had to prioritize, and some things just didn't end up on top. According to the projections made when he was an infant – which can, mind you, fall within a margin for error – he should already be taller, broader, and more muscular – although of a seeker's build as opposed to say, a beater or keeper's. And he shouldn't even need reading glasses at this age, but his eyes are quite bad. And those glasses aren't strong enough to be full help to him. We're going to have to see about finding him an Occulist. The good news, is that a lot of the damage can still be somewhat repaired with a regular regimen of nutrient potions and growth stimulators on a carefully watched schedule. We can at least get his height and build back to the range it should be at this age, and if he continues to eat properly, and get a normal amount of exercise, he'll continue to grow properly. He should end up at least close to where he would have been if he hadn't been three-quarters of the way to starved for most of his early life. I know you have a private brewer – I can write out the prescriptions, and if he's willing, he can make them for you. Although I do warn, even brewed privately, the stimulators are a bit expensive depending on the market price for a few of the key ingredients."

Thinking to himself that there must have been a way for her to say all that with less words – but unsure how – Draco spoke up. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course Draco."

"What did the ritual do?"

"Essentially, it used the strength of all our cores, and our bond of blood to Harry to help him in his struggle to defeat whatever was lingering in his scar with the power of his own core. Given what appeared to come out of it, I'd say it's a good thing indeed we were able to do so."

"I had something _in_ my scar?" Harry's alarm was almost palpable.

"It appears that whatever exactly caused that scar – it's said that mark appeared when the Dark Lord tried to kill you, and the spell rebounded and destroyed him, although no one was there, so no one knows for certain – left behind a bit of dark magic, a sort of active curse, that was siphoning off the magic that leaked through the binding on your core to make itself stronger. If we hadn't managed to destroy it today, I'm not sure what would have happened," Explained Aunt Cissa.

"Wait," said Harry, "I missed something – Binding on my Core?"

"OK," said Healer Tonks, "bare with me for a moment. Your Core is your personal well of magic. It's what you tap into to cast – or to cause accidental magic when you're young. It slows down its growth sometime around the age of 11, which is why we start teaching young wizards and witches at that age – less fluctuations to deal with. From around 11 until about 25, your core is still growing, but it does so at a slower, steady rate, so you're able to keep more control over it then you are when you're having sort of… magical growing pains as it takes sudden leaps on you when you're younger."

She took a deep breath, and gave him her most serious _this is an important Healer-Patient moment_ look. "It would appear that when you were very young, someone – probably the same someone who assumed guardianship and gave you to your Muggle Aunt and Uncle – placed a binding on the magic, that would make it hard – if not impossible – for you to access it, even in an emergency. Emergencies are the most important type of accidental magic in youngsters, it keeps them safe. Not only did they remove something that would have helped keep you safe in the world, but they did so without the assistance of a healer – they could have done permanent damage to your core. This is a very serious matter, one that we intend to bring up when we bring our case up before the wizarding court to attempt to gain custody of you between our two households. Do you understand?"

"I'm not surprised," he said, almost out of nowhere. "Anyone who'd leave a toddler on a doorstep in November has got to be nutters."

"Who'd do _what_?" Cut in Narcissa.

"Aunt Petunia – in one of the few stories I actually used to believe – always told me I was 'left out on the doorstep by _freaks_ without so much as a how-do-you-do, and in _November_, no less.' I always believed that more than the story about my Mum and Dad being killed in an auto accident, anyway." Looking around him, and likely taking in the shocked looks on everyone's faces, he dropped his eyes, and quickly added, "and I'm guessing you didn't know that part."

"Harry," said Dora, "that alone is a criminal act. I haven't memorized what code it falls under yet, but it's a crime. I'm studying that stuff right now – I start the Auror Academy in a little under a month, now. Aurors are sort of like our police force. We're just a little blown away to find out that whoever managed to get guardianship perpetrated yet another crime against you. I can't imagine the ministry handing over the rights to your care to just anyone, but obviously they made a terrible mistake with their decision. It's not your fault you grew up in that place, Harry. No one here blames you. We're looking forward to finding out who_ is_ to blame, so we can fix this sorry mess as much as we can."

"Well said, Nymphadora, dear," said Narcissa.

"You're really my Aunt, aren't you?"

"Yes, dear. You may call me Aunt Cissa."

"I suppose that means I can't do anything about it when you use my full name?"

"If you don't insist on going by your last name, I suppose I can consent to using the same pet-form your father uses."

"Thank you Aunt Cissa."

MM

Several hours later, when Harry's readouts were all still showing relatively stable signs and statistics, Aunt Andi announced he was allowed to leave the hospital. Ideally she would have kept him, but she trusted her sister to fire-call her the moment anything untoward happened. And she trusted the Malfoy elves to keep a sharp eye on their part-time charge when their Mistress couldn't. She handed off the prescription forms regarding the new potions regimen Harry was to be on, along with enough vials of them to see him through until Severus could have supplies ready. There were also fairly strict written instructions about what was and wasn't allowed over the next two weeks – at which point she would be seeing him for a new check-up. She suggested an Occulist with an office just off the Alley.

Privately, Draco was wondering why she didn't just owl all the information and let them go – it was getting close to dinner, as his stomach reminded him. Eventually, they were actually released to go back down to the reception area, and be side-alonged back home by his mother. As he slowly helped Harry up the stairs to their rooms, he could just hear his parents talking from the foyer.

"You wanted me to dig around and find out who assumed Guardianship of young Mr. Potter for you?"

"Please tell me you found out – after today, I'm completely ready to hate that person."

"Then get ready to feel vindicated, and a bit shocked as well. According to what few records there were, it would seem to have been Albus Dumbledore."

Well, that could very easily explain Harry's Godfather being thrown into Azkaban with no trial, at least. Draco had a feeling that things were going to get very, very interesting in the next few weeks. Hopefully, he'd be privy to what went on. It would be, after all, good training for political machinations if nothing else. And he needed to keep a handle on what went on in any case – he needed to keep things under control to make sure Harry came down on their side of things. With or without Dumbledore's blessing.

MM

For all Draco could remember ever seeing or hearing about Potter hating the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, he seemed to be making the best of being a patient at home. For an entire week, he'd barely been let out of bed, been fed increasingly normal – but still quite mushy – foods by the elves, and dutifully taken his nutrient and restorative potions with every meal. There was very little whining or complaining about the state of things.

Draco had appointed himself in charge of entertaining Harry – when the scrawny lad had been awake that was; apparently the battle with whatever had lain in his scar had taken a great deal out of his core, despite the supportive energies they had all been able to send him via their ties of blood. Initially dismayed that Exploding Snap was off the potential schedule of distractions (too potentially exciting, declared his mother; apparently it was even listed on the page of _activities to be avoided_ in the going-home instructions), Draco was happy to discover that Harry was interested in learning Chess. The voice inside him that insisted on giving Harry a fair shake even led him to dig up a set he'd been given by the Parkinsons a few birthdays ago that had never been played – so the chessmen weren't loyal to him yet, and wouldn't give Harry misleading advice.

When they weren't playing Chess, Harry seemed determined to soak up everything he could about the Wizarding World. He poured over the book of Manners with Draco's help, and when he had mastered everything he could without leaving his bed, insisted to be taught how to send away for a book by owl-order so he could buy a genealogy text that included both the Potters and the Blacks. And – insisting Draco do so too, so they could quiz each other – he began devouring school books. Draco began to think that, beyond just knowing the practical side of things, he would be able to waltz through theory for the first few weeks – if not months – with ease, and most of the practical he'd have an unfair advantage on anyway. Especially potions. Harry had become fascinated with them when Severus had quizzed him about favorite flavors for his potions, and explained it was only something that could be done when small batches were brewed for personal use, and only with some potions – as many tended to react badly to the addition of other ingredients, no matter how inert they might seem. By the end of that first week, they had completely finished the supplemental beginners' guidebook, and were perhaps a good quarter or third of the way into the textbook itself – a bit farther than they were into any other subject. Just as impressive was that they had reached that far not only in the school authorized history texts, but the additional series Harry had purchased as well. Harry even named his owl Hedwig, in honor of a Saint he found in one of the History books.

Privately, Draco was beginning to wonder what his earlier childhood would have been like if he'd applied himself this much with the tutors his parents had hired for him when he was small. Somehow Harry's enthusiasm for the material was catching, and he found himself wanting to know the _why's_ and _how's_ almost as much as his newfound distant cousin did.

It was therefore both a relief and almost a disappointment when, after a week had passed, Narcissa announced that Harry was now allowed to leave his room. Light normal activity was encouraged, but anything strenuous was officially disallowed. She announced that she had an outing planned for the boys the following day, and perhaps Draco would like to help Harry stretch out his legs with an easy walk around the grounds? He readily agreed, and felt like he was being treated as though he was stupid when he was told they were to return straight to Harry's room – by house elf if needed – if the walk were too much for Harry.

Knowing there was a good chance Harry might not last too long, Draco's first two destinations were his own favorites. He took Harry down to the full-scale Quidditch half-pitch so Harry could get a better mental picture of the game. "It's great for pick-up games where you might not have enough players," he said. "Only one keeper needed, you can run with less chasers, and usually the snitch gets caught sooner." He let Harry walk up and down the length of the half-pitch, staring up at the goal hoops in wonder for a bit, then called to him, "Oi! There's one more thing I absolutely want to make sure you get to see. C'mon, let's go to the stables!"

"You have horses too," Harry asked, curious.

"These aren't your average Muggle horses, Harry. Just wait 'til you see them."

The walk down to the stables was a long, ambling one, and Draco made certain they took it at a slow pace. When they arrived, most of the stock were out in the grazing corrals attached to their separate barns.

"They've got wings," Harry exclaimed.

Draco eagerly played tour guide. "We have all but one breed, and that's only because they have a specific issue that can make them difficult to work with. These here closest to us, the Palomino ones? Those are Abraxans. They make good draft animals. The chestnut coloured ones to our left are our Aethonens, most popular breed in the Isles, and we're one of the top breeding stables. Farther back and center, the gray shaded ones? Those are Granians, they're super fast, and popular for racing."

"So what's the breed you don't have," Harry asked eagerly.

"Thestrals. And we might without my knowing it. Those are supposed to be black, and almost skeleton-looking. But they say you can only see them if you've seen death. I'm kind of glad that we don't handle them. All our hands would have to have been up close and personal with something unpleasant to work with them."

Harry noticeably suppressed a shiver. "Me too," he said simply.

Thinking fast, Draco steered them back on the path toward the main part of the grounds. "Don't say I sound like a girl or anything, but we need something more cheerful. Why don't I show you Mum's rose garden? She's got almost every magical variety, and a bunch of Muggle ones too."

After the roses, Harry said he was getting tired, so the two walked back up to the house. That night Harry enjoyed his first dinner at the Malfoy table, as well as his first truly solid meal in a week. If shortly after bedtime, there was a nightmare, and if Draco went across the hall to calm him down before the elves decided to alert his Mother, neither of them spoke of it the next day.

MM

In the morning, Draco collected Harry early, and told him to get ready before heading down to breakfast – if his Mother had planned an _outing_, it was likely to be one she'd want to start early. When both boys were ready for the day, they headed downstairs to the breakfast nook Narcissa favored this time of year. Far from snatching quick bites and rushing off, there was a generous spread before them. "Mum…" said Draco carefully, "this doesn't look like usual before-outing fare."

"No," she said, "I suppose not. I just told the elves to make for all of us what they would have been planning for Harry this morning. A better breakfast isn't a bad idea, after all."

At that, the boys sat down, and politely as they could, tucked in. After watching them fondly for a few moments, Narcissa followed suit, a bit more daintily than the two of them. All in all, it was a successful breakfast. While Harry sorted out and took his morning potions, Narcissa pulled Draco aside.

"Keep your eyes sharp, and as long as it isn't for too long, don't be afraid to wander off to make a quick purchase for Harry –"

"Mum?"

"The big surprise today is a belated birthday party over at your Aunt Andi's house. They've gone together to get him a broom, and your father is taking the two of you to the last Montrose home game before you're off to school. I don't know what Dora has in mind. I was going to get him a package of sweets, but he's still not used to them, so I've gotten him a gift certificate to Flourish & Blott's. You have a while to think, and you'll have a golden opportunity to sneak off a little later—"

Just then, Harry announced that he was ready to go, and asked what they were talking about. "Just figuring out what order we should do a few things in," Draco cut in smoothly. "I'm ready too – are we heading out, Mum?"

"Yes, darlings, we are. Take hold, I'll side-along you two to the Alley with me."

MM

As it happened, their first stop was Madam Malkin's. The package they picked up was immediately handed to Harry. "We should have thought of this sooner, dear. It's much too nice of weather not to be on or in the water, and you'll regret not taking advantage of it if you don't before school starts."

Harry blushed, and somehow managed to stammer out that he didn't know how to swim. "No trouble, dear," continued Narcissa. "I think Lucius could teach swimming to rocks and have success. We'll find a free minute or two with him, and he and Draco will have you happily splashing in no time."

Then it was off quickly – dare not be late – to the Occulist that Aunt Andi had recommended. At first entry to the shop, both Harry and Draco found the place a bit creepy – largely due to the giant display of various magical replacement eyes, which dutifully watched their every movement. But very quickly, a young woman came out into the shop portion of the business, wearing smartly tailored robes in a bright blue. Draco wondered if it was a personal choice, or if, like the lime green at St. Mungo's, it was a professional standard.

"Good morning," the woman said. "If Harry's ready to come on back, we can begin with the exam."

"I'll come with you Harry dear," said Aunt Cissa kindly. "But perhaps this time we'd best leave Draco out here – from what I can remember, Occulist's exam rooms tend to be a bit on the smaller side."

"Go on Harry," said Draco. "I'll keep the creepy eyes company for you," he smirked. In return he got an uncertain half-wave as Harry and Narcissa headed down the small hallway, following the woman in blue.

MM

Uncertain how much time he had left to make it back to the Occulist's, Draco debated between heading to Flourish & Blott's, or heading for Quality Quidditch Supply. On the one hand, his Mother _had_ told him she'd gotten Harry a gift certificate to the bookstore. But on the other hand, everyone else seemed to be getting him something Quidditch related already. He wasn't going to go the easy route and get supplies for Hedwig – Harry was well stocked on that count anyway, thanks to Hagrid. Suddenly it hit him, and he made a beeline for the Diagon branch of Zonko's. Selecting a handsome wooden box, he swiftly filled it with a travel chessboard (complete novice chessmen, but again, unbiased), a stack of exploding snap decks, a beginner's set of gobstones, and topped it off with a few packages of chocolate frogs – he knew Harry wasn't entirely on board with sweets, but he'd seemed keen on the notion of collecting the cards. For all he knew he'd get the frogs himself.

Taking the box up to the front, he asked the shopkeeper on duty if there was anything else they would recommend in terms of entertainment for a Muggle-raised wizard who was currently having fun immersing themselves in wizarding culture. At the clerk's suggestion, he added a box charmed to play the 'best of' the Weird Sisters when opened. Before his final charge, he had the box charmed to a pocket sized, set to expand on a wand-touch. He paid, and hurried back off to the Occulist's, hoping he would arrive before Harry had finished. Box in pocket, he made it – just in time. He was just sitting down when his Mother and Harry emerged from the hallway, sour looks on both their faces.

"Suddenly I'm not certain I should ask, but… what's the verdict."

Harry scowled. "Between the malnutrition, and what looks like an old brain injury, I may always need glasses. Right now, they can't even try to do any permanent correction because I'm still growing and they're still trying to undo the nutrition damage. The good news is I'm being fitted with new glasses that will automatically adjust to my prescription. The other bad news is I'm going to have another new set of potions to start taking. Want to help me pick a set of frames?"

"Sure. Do you know what bonuses you're getting with the glasses," asked Draco as he drifted over to a massive display of frames, grabbing an oval pair of wire-rims seemingly at random and handing them to Harry."

"Bonuses?" He slipped the frames on, slipping his battered glasses into his pocket.

"You can have them spelled to do anything from repel water to highlight wards and runes. No, those don't work, try these," he handed over another set of wireframes, these a little more toward square. "Yeah, those fit your face better. You can usually get a growth charm on them too. Look in the mirror to see if you like those."

Harry squinted at a mirror for a moment, then let his shoulders slump. "I can't see anything," he said, frustrated. "Mrs. – er, Aunt Cissa? What do you think of this pair?"

"Very nice, Harry – good work Draco. Now if the two of you will just come over here, we'll take care of a few details, and we'll be on our way."

A few details turned out to be a litany of possible included features – any of which could be added later for an additional charge when he came in for a follow up exam, or at any point at all, really. Harry elected for the low-level sticking charm that would keep them on his face, the charm that made them nearly unbreakable, the water repelling charm, and the low-light vision enhancement. He also narrowly avoided making a scene when Mrs. Malfoy insisted on paying for the new glasses herself.

"Nonsense, Harry," she finally told him. "I know we haven't finalized things yet – although we have them in motion – but it's a family's job to look after any youngsters in their care. You'll have to get used to a certain amount of that. Let me do this for you."

With a certain amount of bewildered resentment, Harry went along with her insistence. A small number of charms – and a Gringotts draft – later, and they were on their way again. Harry had wasted no time in binning his old glasses, despite warnings that it may take him some time to see properly. "I'll get in touch with Severus later today to let him know about your new potion," Aunt Cissa told Harry. "It shouldn't take him long to get a stock of that one ready for you as well. And I told the Occulist to forward the results about the causes of your poor eyesight to your Aunt Andi. We may need them for whatever proceedings we have ahead of us."

As she'd spoken, Narcissa had gently steered them toward their usual departure point. Harry looked just slightly confused, as though he didn't want to seem ungrateful, but wasn't sure that a new swimming costume and a pair of new glasses exactly constituted an _outing_. Quickly, though, he was puzzled by much more concrete confusion, when Aunt Cissa produced one of her silk scarves. "This will have to serve as your blindfold Harry – I think it will go on over those new glasses just fine. Be a good lad, and be honest about making certain you can't see. We can't properly surprise you if you see where you're going."

Taking the scarf as though he thought it might bite him, Harry reluctantly tied it around his head, obscuring his face in the process. "Is this good?"

"Can you see?"

"No."

"Then it's perfect." She took his hand, and gestured with the other for Draco to take hold. Another quick side-along later, they were in what appeared to be the Tonks' back garden. At his Mother's gesture, Draco led Harry over to the table, and sat him down in front of a beautiful two-tiered cake that was decorated by turns in the colors of all the Hogwarts Houses. He startled and almost gave the game away when he spotted his own Godfather skulking about the fringe of the party. Apparently the man had taken a keener liking to Harry than Draco had expected. That would help things along later on, he rather thought.

Draco stayed quiet while everyone got into place under the broad banner strung between two trees that was emblazoned with the words _Happy Birthday Harry_. At his Mother and Aunt Andi's nods, he muttered down to the temporary captive, "OK, now close your eyes while I loose this blindfold. You'll know when to open them." He untied the scarf, the hurried over to stand with the others. In unison, they exclaimed the sentiment on the banner, and Harry nearly came off his chair in surprised confusion, his eyes flying open. Taking in the table of presents (onto which Draco had slipped a certain size-restored wooden box), the table that seemed to be swaying under the weight of food, the people (granted, all people he knew, but more people he'd been in one place with while conscious that he could reasonably be expected to interact with before now), and the massive cake in front of him, he did what any self-respecting Boy-Who-Lived who'd had the life he'd had up to this point would have done. Harry promptly fainted.

**A/N:** Poor Harry. At least this time he's merely fainted – no screaming involved. I'm sure someone will put him to rights.

Like every other chapter I post, this would not be what it is without the help of my lovely beta, Lupinefire. Any errors you note are mine, not hers, as I am constantly tinkering.

I'm currently working on Chapter 19, but make frequent run-throughs of earlier chapters for editing, and content checks – as such, I have a little question to pose to you all. Imagine you are James, Sirius, Remus, Peter (yes, even him, they didn't know he was a traitor), or to a lesser extent Lily. You are putting together an initial version of a Second Generation Marauders' Kit for Harry to one day use. What sorts of things would you pack in there? I already have a few ideas worked out, but I'd like to hear your thoughts. Now, don't get too excited – this isn't something that's making its first appearance for another few chapters yet, but still, I decided I wanted to solicit ideas.

I hope those of you who hadn't already encountered it at least gave Harry Crow a chance. In another few chapters, I'll probably rec another fic. I myself have been led to some nice pieces that way. And if I run out of Recs, Lupinefire certainly has enough of them to fill in the quiet places. I get a lot of good stories just paying attention to what she's reading.

Anyway, thanks for tuning in, and I'll see you next week!


	8. Happy Belated Birthday

**A/N: **I promise I will return these borrowed action figures and playsets in good condition when I am done making up stories with them.

Chapter Eight

_Happy Belated Birthday_

Utter chaos briefly ensued. Harry's movement toward the ground was slowed and nearly arrested by, apparently, Severus. Draco wondered for a quick moment what had prompted the man to be ready for such an occurrence. Dora Tonks gave Severus a surprised and approving look, and muttered something about "Constant Vigilance," which made Draco shudder right down his spine. Like Draco, Ted Tonks and Lucius seemed to be set on staying out of the way – or fray, possibly – as Aunt Andi and Narcissa both nearly sprinted over to Harry and began frantically checking him over. When the visual check from Narcissa provided no information, and the diagnostic charm cast by the Healer-by-trade was equally unhelpful, it seemed likely that panic was about to break out.

That was when Severus carefully lowered Harry the rest of the way to the ground, and slowly approached the scene of the storm, oddly motioning to Draco to join him. When they arrived, Severus spoke in what Draco had always thought of as his calming rumble. "You won't find anything physically wrong with him. It wasn't his recovery that made him faint, Healer Tonks, Narcissa."

For a moment, the two women snapped their faces toward him, eyes flashing as though he'd accused them of incompetence. Then a slow light of some sort of understanding dawned across Narcissa's face. "Come on, Andi. I've a feeling he's right, though it's not my place to tell you why. We'll let the Potions Master sort this one. Come Draco."

"No. If they're to be as close of friends as one imagines, he'll need to be here for this. I trust him to keep my secrets – he is my Godson, after all, and should have been told before now as it is, as a matter of course. Perhaps I play myself too close to the vest."

Narcissa nodded, Healer Tonks gave a bewildered sort of half-nod, and the two women walked away just as Severus was bodily picking up Harry. "Andromeda, might we use your study?"

"Of course."

Draco trotted ahead to open doors and lead the way – as he had been there on Harry's and his own initial visit to the Tonks' – wondering all the while how his Godfather had gotten charge of the situation, and why. Although he knew he'd be getting some form of answer soon, he couldn't help but be curious – and a little worried, as it didn't sound like it would be the sort of answer he'd be happy to hear.

When they made it to the study, Severus laid Harry down on one of the loungers, and conjured a dark blue blanket to lay over the boy up to his chest, despite it being fairly warm in the room. He gestured for Draco to sit on the ottoman, then did so himself.

"Harry…" he said. "You are alright, you are safe. Nothing can harm you at the moment. Please feel secure enough to awaken at any time." And then he merely leaned back, seemingly content to wait. Draco was now even more confused, but if waiting was the order of the hour, and he'd been brought along for a reason, he would wait too. Privately he thought to himself he was glad he'd been brought along. It made it easier not to worry.

As the minutes ticked past, Draco tried very hard not to fidget. Even the sixteen-year-old self he'd become in the past future wasn't the greatest at patience, and he was feeling that lack keenly now. He resisted the urge to cast a tempus, knowing that not only was he under the trace, but technically he shouldn't even know that spell yet.

Eventually, there was a low groan from the lounge, and Harry's form – seemingly on instinct – rolled away from them, curling into a small ball. Draco glanced quickly at his Godfather, and saw a fleeting look – half smile, half frown – cross his features, before his face was schooled into the soothing look he himself knew so well.

When the Potions Master spoke, it was in a tone Draco had only ever heard before when it was just the two of them. He swallowed a bit of resentment, and tried to focus on what was actually going on. "No one here is going to hurt you, Harry. In fact, the case is quite the opposite. Everyone outside is very concerned about you. I almost had to make a scary face at them so they would let me talk to you alone. And I promise I'm very good at making scary faces. Draco is here too. There's no need to curl, there's no need to fear. You know, if you think about it with your head and not your past, that neither of us will do you any harm. If you want us to go back outside and let you collect yourself alone, we will, but maybe you'd rather we stay and have a short talk about things?"

When there was no response from the boy on the lounge other than to curl into a tighter ball, Severus gave a quiet sigh, and started to stand up. So quietly it could almost be missed, Harry whispered then. "Don't go." Severus gently but swiftly sat himself back down at once.

"Of course Harry. How are you feeling?"

The boy stayed clenched in a tight ball, his voice still just above a whisper. "I can't lie to you can I? You've been in my head."

"You could if you wanted to," said Severus with a slight smile. "Although you're right that I'd probably see through it, and that's for more reasons than you know yet. But you could also refuse to answer the question. I happen to know that talking can help sometimes, though."

Another pause, and then even quieter than before, "Stupid." Quieter still, "And scared." If it was even possible, he tensed into a tighter ball yet.

Severus reached out, ignoring the boy's twitch of discomfort, and lay a calming hand on his shoulder. "When nearly all we have known in our life is pain and misery, joyful things can seem horribly frightening. Especially when they are a surprise to us. I tried to tell them they couldn't spring this party on you as a surprise, but they were very… enthusiastic." He was using what Draco thought of as his Hypnotic tone now. The one that had made bedtime stories seem more real when he was very young.

"I understand that well, Harry. And I have a short story to tell you, which may help you see that I understand." He motioned to Draco that he was to pay attention as well. "My Mother, rest her soul, was a Witch from a pureblood family that thought very little of Muggles. I will never know if at the time it was love, or if it was rebellion, but she married a completely un-magical Muggle named Tobias. At one point, they might have been happy together, but by the time I was born, he seemed to spend his every moment at home making her life, and then mine, miserable. He was of the worst sort of Muggle, of person really. If not for his low class background, I somehow think he would have gotten along well with your Uncle Vernon. My Mother's family had disowned her, so she felt she had nowhere to go if she left him, even if she returned to the Wizarding world. And he delighted in seeing how many times he could break her spirit before it would no longer repair itself. In many ways, Harry, my childhood has a lot in common with yours, only I wasn't the only one in the house being tormented."

He paused for a moment, obviously lost in either thought or memory. "My only friend was a young girl who lived in the development on the other side of the playground. Her name was Lily, and she had vibrant green eyes. I was certain she was a Witch, and her older sister tried to keep her away from me, because I was just a strange, shabby little poor boy with bruises. When I was finally able to go to Hogwarts, Lily was there too, a first year on the train as well. I didn't know how to cope with being happy, it frightened me. So when several other first years played a prank on me – first years who eventually became friends of hers – I didn't see the humor in it, and responded with a curse most first years wouldn't have even heard of. It cemented my reputation before I had even made it to school as an ill-tempered, evil child. For years, Lily was my only friend, despite the fact that she and I were in rival Houses. Then I… I said something rather unthinkable, when all she had been trying to do was defend me from that same group of pranksters when they had taken a joke too far. It destroyed our friendship, and that loss sent me down a path that is too dark to speak of to you now."

Severus heaved a deep sigh, and looked down at Harry, who had uncurled somewhat, and turned to face himself and Draco. "I suppose I tell you this story for three reasons. One, because I want you to know I understand how a harsh past can mark you, even when you have a chance to escape it. Two, because I want you to see how you must try to learn to overcome your initial fear and distrust of good things. And Three… Three is because before she became the wife of James Potter, you mother was Lily Evans… at one time my only friend."

"You knew my parents?" Harry sat up so fast, it appeared he almost made himself dizzy.

"Yes, I did. I regret to say that your father was one of the boys who enjoyed pulling pranks on me, so I was never fond of or close to him at school. But I was friends with your mother from the time we were both somewhat small, up through our Fifth year at Hogwarts."

Draco hadn't yet seen Harry this excited about anything. "Could you tell me about her?"

"Another time, but yes, I would love to tell you about her. I see a lot of her in you – she was keen on Potions as well. Potions and Charms. But just now, there's an entire party waiting for you outside. With an actual cake, and real presents. Do you feel up to trying to experience that now?"

Harry gave a stutterish sort of nod. "I can try."

Severus reached out and ruffled Harry's hair as he so often did Draco's. "That's a good lad. All anyone can ask is that you try."

As the three collected themselves to return to the back garden, Draco wondered at the fact that he had in one sitting learned more about his Godfather's past than he had perhaps ever heard in sum total. Seeming to read the boy's thoughts, Severus ruffled his hair too. "We'll talk just the two of us later on, Draco," he said. "That was a story overdue in the telling to you as well."

MM

As they walked back into the space set up for the party, Severus had to put an arm out to keep the women from swamping Harry. "I'm… I'm fine," Harry assured them. "Just a bit startled, was all. Sorry to ruin your surprise."

"Silly boy," said Aunt Andi, "we weren't worried about the _surprise_, we were worried about _you_."

"So glad you're feeling better," said Aunt Cissa. "Come take a seat Harry? We're sorry – obviously we should've listened to the advice Severus no doubt mentioned giving us about not surprising you with this little soiree."

Gingerly, Harry made his way back toward the tables, flanked by obviously protective company in the forms of Draco and Severus. Seemingly glad of this, he steered himself toward a seat with obviously empty seats on either side of it. Just as Harry sat down, the small dragon figurine circling above the cake (which had gone unnoticed before) decided it was time to light the candles, and blew a brief gout of flame at them. As Harry's breathing quickened, both Draco and Severus lay calming hands over the arm closest to him. Harry nodded, almost to himself, in gratitude.

Dora Tonks approached, looking fidgety and almost nervous. "I suppose you can blame this whole thing on me, Harry," she said in a quiet voice. "I was the one to point out to Mum that we'd all just barely missed the chance to give you a party on your birthday. They sort of took it over from there, but if I hadn't brought it up…"

Harry quickly shook his head. "You couldn't have known I'd never had one," he said quickly. "No real harm done, so no foul, right? Aussie rules birthday party, or something, huh?"

He may have missed the mortified look on Dora's face when he'd said that he'd never had a party, but Draco didn't. If he wasn't careful, that girl was going to be trouble – out of Hogwarts or not.

"So," said Harry, unaware that he was making things more uncomfortable for most of the party, "what do I do first?"

"My suggestion," rumbled Severus, "is that we all eat – it's about time for your afternoon potions, isn't it Harry?"

After a brief moment of panic when Harry thought he didn't have them, but Narcissa was able to produce his afternoon doses – and hand off to Severus the new prescription from the Occulist – Harry quickly agreed that it was likely time to dig in to the generous spread laid out before them. They all dug in with gusto.

MM

When everyone was stuffed to the gills, and Harry had been introduced to the ritual of blowing out the candles on one's cake – causing everyone to become even more stuffed shortly thereafter – he was informed that it was time to open his presents. His chair was moved near the table piled with them, and Draco appointed himself runner. The first gift he brought was the long package marked From _Aunt Andi and Uncle Ted._

Harry good naturedly wrestled with the wrapping on the awkwardly shaped gift, until he was left with a long, presentation-style box, with the words _Nimbus 2000_ in neat script across the top. "Go on then," smiled Aunt Andi, "Open it up." He did so, and found himself face-to… well, twigs with the type of broom he had imagined Quidditch players must use.

"Wow," was all he could produce for a moment.

"Now then," said Aunt Andi, her _Healer_ voice peeking out for a moment, "you're cleared to learn from Draco and Lucius, but not too long up in the air at a time for the next week, and you are to _stop_ the instant you start to feel tired. You're still on the mend. But, I hope you enjoy the broom. I know Dora was clamoring for one at your age – she's surprisingly more graceful in the air than she is on her own two feet."

"Mum!"

"It's true! Don't look at me in that tone of voice young lady."

"Right then," said Draco. "Next present." He poked around the gift table for a moment, and found the one with a tag indicating that it was from Dora. Inside the rather cube-shaped parcel Harry found a broom servicing and cleaning kit, along with two slim books – Beginning Aerial Maneuvers, and Basics of Quidditch Strategy.

"I was on Hufflepuff's Reserve Team my last three years," she explained. "Our Captain at the time considered those books required reading. Might help you get ready if you plan on trying out at any point – and anybody who wants to keep their broom in shape needs a good kit for it."

"T-thank you," Harry managed to stammer, already becoming overwhelmed with his gifts, when he was less than halfway through the pile. "I really appreciate—"

"Next present!" Announced Draco, returning from the table with a small box that had an envelope spello-taped to the top of it.

Harry elected to open the envelope – marked _From Aunt Cissa_ – first. There was a lovely handwritten note he refused to let Draco read, and a 25 Galleon gift certificate to Flourish & Blott's, redeemable in-person or by owl-order. Swallowing the continuing sense of being overcome by emotion, he tore into the wrapping paper around the box. Inside the box were two items, an Acromantula Silk cloak with the Potter and Black Family Crests embroidered in a higher gloss black on the back, and a durable-looking school satchel much like the one Draco had been given when he received his Hogwarts letter. "It has an expansion charm on the inside," Aunt Cissa explained, "so you shouldn't have any trouble carrying everything you need for the day. There is a mild lightening charm as well."

Nodding in understanding, Harry gave her a rather damp smile of appreciation. She smiled back at him, seeming to accept that he was rapidly approaching the point where speaking would become dangerous.

Draco made the trip over to the table again, this time picking up the envelope from his father. He returned and handed it to Harry. "I love this one," he told his cousin. "I get to be part of it too."

Bewildered, Harry opened the envelope to find what appeared to be a ticket. "We're going somewhere?"

"Every year, Dad takes me to at least one of Montrose's home games. They happen to have one before we have to leave for school, and you're coming with us! You're going to get to see a pro Quidditch game!"

That left Harry beaming alright. So far, every gift had been wonderful, and there were still two mysterious boxes left sitting on the table. It seemed almost more than he could take. Draco, meanwhile, turned to his Godfather. "Do you want to go last, or can I?"

"You're the runner," said Severus. "It's your choice."

"You then. You give great gifts." And he picked up the wooden box he'd purchased and packed earlier that very day. Bringing it over, he showed Harry which side slid open. "It's kind of packed, but I had fun picking things out for you," he said by way of explanation as Harry started poking through all the things Draco had found for him.

"It's great Draco. And the box will fit in my trunk, to keep it all together!"

"Yeah, this way we'll have plenty to do on the train, if you want!" He couldn't help but smile at Harry's enthusiastic nod. "And now, your gift from Uncle Severus!" He hurried over to the table, but came back slowly – he knew from experience that sometimes gifts from his Godfather were best not jostled.

It was another wooden box, but of a much darker finish. Harry opened the hinged lid, and found – atop many stoppered vials and closed boxes – what appeared to be an instruction manual. "The Future Potioneer's First Practice Kit."

"When I realized you had taken an interest, I went on a hunt to see if they still made these. They do not, but I was able to find one fairly complete second-hand, and replenish the ingredients for you. Nothing in that kit is capable of producing a volatile reaction with anything else included, and the directions lead you step-by-step through crafting a few very simple potions. It will be a good way for you – and Draco, if he chooses to help you – to get a little practice in before school starts. If you have any questions or problems with the potions in the instructions booklet, owl me and I will try to figure out where you may have gone awry. Kindly do us all the courtesy of not mixing things willy-nilly – especially not with anything from your school kit."

Harry appeared to swallow hard, and Draco imagined it was because the gift was now all the more precious since he had been told of his mother's interest in the discipline. The belated birthday boy looked around at everyone, eyes suspiciously bright, and choked out a heartfelt, "Thank you… everyone, thank you so much."

Severus gave a warm smile, seemingly at the progress that had been made, then turned his eyes specifically toward Harry and Draco. "Harry," he said intently, "do you feel up to a few moments enjoying your presents by yourself whilst Draco and myself have a private conversation?"

His answer was a nod – slightly uncertain, but affirmative.

"I promise you we will remain within sight the entire time. Does that make you feel a bit better?"

This time the nod was more pronounced, and more sure. Severus and Draco both nodded back, and made their way to a spot under an oak tree not too far from where the rest of the party was wrapping up. Both turned so that they were at least partially facing the direction of Harry's chair. For a few moments, they merely watched the boy as he lightly ran his hands over his new possessions – as though he could not fathom that they were his.

MM

"Draco," Severus began, "I apologize that you haven't heard anything of my childhood or years at Hogwarts before. It is… a difficult story to tell to one who hasn't the frame of reference to understand it at an instinctive level, and I am sorry I have not given you the credit to be ready to handle it. But I felt that now, more than ever, you needed to – you need to understand these things as much as you are able if you are to be the friend to Harry that I think you will be. While in some ways his life before now was different than mine, it has been no less difficult. No doubt the custody hearings – and any trials that arise from them – will be very difficult for him, as he will be forced to relive some of his darkest moments. He will need your support. I realize that it doesn't seem a very Slytherin thing to do – and I know you have largely been raised to think like a Slytherin. But sometimes a genuine gesture in the present pays vast dividends in the future."

"He's my friend Uncle Severus. Honestly. In the beginning I wasn't sure, but there's something about him that I feel deep in my bones will be important in the long haul. I don't know how to describe it…"

"Call it instinct. You are most likely right. It's good that he has you. Just remember that anything he does when upset that may seem intended to push you away is a defense mechanism. The general rule of thumb for the neglected and abused is that if they can make someone leave, they won't have to suffer being left unexpectedly. I'm afraid I don't know how to best explain it other than that. He may well test you, and in those situations you may have to prove to him that you will be with him for that long haul you mentioned. He is a curious mix of trust and distrust. But then, so have I always been, for many of the same reasons."

"I understand, Uncle Severus. As much as I can, anyway, I think. And you don't have to tell me, just like you didn't have to tell him. I know that your story goes no farther than we two. I'm guessing my Mum and Father know?"

"I suspect it is why she talked me into coming to make the copies of his memories. She knew my seeing them would get me past any instinctive dislike of anyone who so resembled James Potter – though he does have his Mother's eyes, and a great deal more of her beneath his shell, I would wager." He paused, and observed the state of clean-up the back garden had achieved. "Come, we should return to Harry. You'll be needed to help haul presents, and I must say my goodbyes."

Before all the company had parted, Severus told Harry that – while, like Draco, it was never to be uttered in front of another student at school – but he was permitted to call him Uncle Severus if he liked. Draco wondered a bit at the odd glee in his Godfather's eyes when Harry immediately took to the new moniker.

**A/N:** The Day Is Saved by… _Uncle_ Severus? He certainly seems pleased by that. And the bleated birthday party mostly goes off without additional hitch. All is well in Harry-Land for the moment.

In all seriousness, though. Now Harry has had his first _ever_ birthday party, gotten some respectable gifts, and both he and Draco have learned a bit about Severus's past.

If any of you have been mulling over my question of what you would like to see in a Second-Generation Marauder's Kit, send me those ideas. As I've said, I have some ideas of my own, but I'm very curious what you the readers might think should be lurking in just such a kit.

I'm currently around halfway finished with Chapter 20. As always, credit goes to my wonderful Beta, Lupinefire – errors are mine, not hers, as I tend to tinker when she's not watching me.

Thanks for reading all, see you next week – when you get to discover how little I understand the British Legal system. I haven't even managed to catch an episode of Law & Order: UK.


	9. May It Please The Court

**A/N:** So wonderful that JKR doesn't mind us playing in her sandbox. I think I'll take an extra-long session of playtime today.

Chapter Nine

_May it Please The Court_

The next few days were filled with swimming and flying lessons – broken into small chunks so as to be less strenuous. Harry had apparently worried about flying with Draco, who'd had his broom for over a year, but that fear was allayed when Lucius had to correct his son's grip; it seemed some of his friends who claimed to be expert fliers had been giving him bad advice. Lucius was a very good teacher of both subjects, and it didn't hurt that Harry took to swimming like a fish, and to flight like a bird. It would seem his build really was correct for both types of activity.

There were times, especially during those lessons, when Draco wondered what his Father's perspective and motivation were. Was he merely going along to see his wife and son happy? Did he have designs on cleaning up the family image by publicly making an alliance with House Potter? Or was there something else motivating him to go along with their plans for the Boy-who-lived-through-hell?

When they weren't in the air or in the sand-bottomed pond, the boys were reading farther ahead in their schoolbooks, experimenting with Harry's beginner's potions kit, or just goofing around for the most part. Very rarely, Harry would open up to Draco a little about what life with the Dursleys had been like, but Draco had quickly learned not to ask questions, but rather to listen, provide support, and then be willing to move to a completely unrelated topic at seeming random when Harry was done sharing.

It was the Thursday of that week when, at lunch, Narcissa announced to the boys that the next day they would need to be ready early, dressed sharply somewhere just short of dress-robes, and on their best behavior for a trip to the Ministry. The custody hearing for Harry had finally been arranged. Harry – perhaps understandably – spent the rest of the day a nervous wreck. Draco couldn't even get him up on his broomstick for a few laps around the half-pitch. It seemed all that Harry could think of was an ever-growing list of the ways the hearing could possibly go wrong.

MM

Neither boy had slept well on Thursday night. Harry, due to nerves, and Draco due to both his own nerves and trying to keep Harry calm. At 5am, when Harry knocked on his door and Draco was already awake himself, they agreed to just get up and get moving along. Before they split back off to their separate rooms, Draco helped Harry pick what he thought was the most flattering of the boy's robes to wear, and called for a house elf to press them while Harry was bathing. Then he returned to his own room, doing essentially the same thing for himself.

Though he tried to take his time in the bath, one can only wash one's hair so slowly, and in no time at all he was fresh, dressed, and meeting an anxious Harry in the hallway. "C'mon," he mumbled. "Might as well go down and see if we can find a kitchen elf to scare us up some good strong tea or something."

When they arrived in the breakfast nook, they found Narcissa and Lucius already there. "Couldn't sleep?" Lucius queried.

"You might say it was a rough night," answered Draco, neutrally. His mother poured them two cups of what smelled like tea strong enough to stand up the spoon, while his father wordlessly slid across two vials of pepper-up.

After that bit of wake up, Draco at least managed a little toast, and most of a serving of potatoes. Harry ate just enough of a single piece of toast that his morning potions weren't going down to an empty stomach.

The four sat, not even bothering to try making small-talk, until the time arrived for their departure. Owing to the high-profile nature of the boy who found himself at the center of the case, Lucius had been able to pull a few strings, and temporarily have his fireplace added to the _approved_ list for incoming traffic to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – he explained that an Auror would be waiting for them when they arrived. This time through the floo, Harry faired a little better than the last, but still managed to stumble directly _into_ their escort when he came through – Draco had to exert iron will to keep from laughing. He began to wonder if the tension was getting to him.

The Auror at their disposal told them his name was Shacklebolt, and that they'd be going down to Courtroom Three, where the Tonks' were already waiting for them. Their entire party would be sitting together in the Plaintiff Witness section of the stands, so that their Barrister-of-Record, a Wizard called McIntosh would easily be able to call them as needed, and so that there would be plenty of support for young Harry. They were sternly reminded to remain quiet unless called upon as witness, or otherwise asked a question either by the Barristers, the Ministry Representative – in this case, Minister Fudge himself – or one of the members of the Wizengamot present to decide the case.

As Draco attempted to drink in every detail of what they were being told and how, the room they had arrived in, and the Auror before them, he couldn't help but notice that Harry had seemingly shrunk back behind him when the tall, dark-skinned man had begun speaking. Draco idly wondered if it was intimidation, or a sense of mortification that he had stumbled into the man upon his arrival that prompted Harry's reaction.

After a few more bits of rules and regulations were read out, a nearby Auror with relatively little paperwork on her desk was drafted to perform the obligatory wand-certification. Then Shacklebolt nodded his thanks at her, and motioned for the four of them to follow him out of the DMLE's Auror Headquarters, and out into the hallways that led to the courtrooms. When they finally reached Courtroom Three, he escorted them in, and pointed them to the roped off area for Plaintiff Witnesses. Before he turned to leave them, his deep voice rumbled once more. "I'm on courtroom security detail today. When you leave, follow the rest of the civilians to the main lobby – you can exit through any of the employee fireplaces from there," then he turned his large dark eyes directly on a squirming Harry. "I hope you get what you need from this, young Harry. I was never one who approved of your mysterious placement." And before anyone could say anything, he was gone back into the crowd, even the red robes marking him as an on-duty Auror somehow not sticking out enough to give away his position.

The Malfoys and Harry took up seats near the Tonks family and – to their mild surprise – Severus Snape. A few more individuals gradually appeared to fill more seats in the box – a few Draco didn't know, and a few he did know, but was surprised by. He wondered what Madam Longbottom and Neville had to do with anything, but supposed he would find out shortly.

In due course, a court Official moved to stand in the center of the floor. "Are the Wizengamot members chosen to judge today all in attendance?" After their mumbled assent, he turned toward the Barrister for the (until now) unknown guardian. "Are all the defendant's witnesses gathered and ready?" The Barrister briefly looked up into his section of the gallery, then gave a curt nod. It was such a brief glance, Draco quickly looked over himself. Along with many people he either didn't know, or only vaguely recognized, sat Albus Dumbledore. Now that was interesting – was the old Headmaster planning on testifying in his own defense? The Official then turned to their Barrister. "Are all the plaintiff's witnesses gathered and ready?"

He was the first to vocalize his answer. "All save those prepared to be brought in by Auror, sir."

The Official turned to the high box where the Official from the Ministry sat. "Honorable Minister Fudge, all parties are prepared to begin the proceedings."

"Thank you," said Minister Fudge, sounding as pompous as ever, even within such a simple phrase. "I declare this court duly convened and prepared to deal with the matter of the Malfoy and Tonks families versus the hitherto unnamed Guardians of one Harry Potter. Let the Barrister for the Plaintiffs proceed."

"Thank you," the Barrister McIntosh began. "Honored Minister, esteemed members of the Wizengamot, my goals here today are several-fold. I intend to show that this boy, Harry Potter, has been wronged many times over. A man who had no business doing so usurped the title of guardian. A man who should have had that title was swept under the rug and tossed into Azkaban without even a make-believe trial. Muggles who, though knowing of magic, actively hated it were summarily given physical custody without even a cursory face-to-face meeting. This boy has been treated abysmally for nearly 10 years, and his self-appointed Magical Guardian either did not know enough to check on his welfare, or did not care enough to improve the conditions he was living under. It was only by a chance meeting with relatives – yes relatives, distant though they be – that he has even temporarily been able to escape from his so-called physical guardians. As a final blow, and possibly as the means to allow the usurpation of the fraudulent title of magical guardian, the boy's parents' Wills were sealed and never read, his family accounts frozen, his titular custodians never given a stipend for his care. Even regardless of the reasons it may have been done – which we believe were for ill – if those Wills had been read in a timely fashion, much of this mess would not exist now. Not to mention the fact that the family home was allowed to fall into ruin, destroying who knows how many irreplaceable heirlooms. I intend to show all this, then explain to you how my clients, with the elegant solution they have worked out on their own time, would be a far better alternative to the present situation, until such time as a man currently imprisoned falsely can be released and made whole again – made able to take an active role in the life of the boy he was supposed to be a godfather to."

Minister Fudge looked slightly intrigued as the man sat back down. "Very well, Mr. McIntosh. Does the Barrister for the Defense wish to give an Opening Statement at this time?"

The opposing Barrister, whose table nameplate read Crowley, shook his head as he stood. "We reserve our right to statement until the beginning of our case, Mr. Minister."

"As you wish. Mr. McIntosh, you may proceed with your case," said Minister Fudge, as Crowley sat back down, almost with an air of contempt for the proceedings.

Their man stood again. "Thank you, Minister. If the Aurors are ready, I would begin by questioning Mrs. Petunia Dursley, Harry's Muggle Aunt, may it please the Court."

MM

When two red-robed Aurors (one of them Shacklebolt, in fact) came through the door escorting Harry's Aunt Petunia, she was continually trying to pull her arms away from them. Not so much, it seemed, that she wanted to_ escape_, per se, but more that she wanted no physical contact between them and her person. She seemed tall, coltish in a way that was in no way aquiline, and had a thoroughly disgusted look on her face as she took in her surroundings. As she came in, one of the Wizengamot Court's famous witness chairs rose from the floor, manacles, straps and all. Quite obviously against her will, she was secured to the piece of furniture.

Once she was secured, McIntosh looked up to the Minister. "Honorable Minister Fudge, Plaintiff's council shall begin questioning now, but reserve the right to request a squib's dosage of Veritaserum for use on this witness, and further seek permission to consider hostile."

"Granted," said Fudge, as he peered down at this most definitely hostile example of Muggle-kind.

McIntosh turned toward Petunia, and began his first line of questioning. "Madam Dursley, do you know why you're here?"

"You _freaks_ run about leaving babies on doorsteps," she frothed, "it's no surprise you'd steal people from their homes at night with no explanation. What have you done with my Dudders! Where is my boy!"

"Pardon me, but might you mean boy_**s**_? It's my understanding that your Nephew Harry, who has been under your care since he was a toddler, has been away from your home for a fortnight with no contact to or from home, and he only just having turned eleven. Doesn't that bother you?"

She turned her head to directly face him for the first time, her voice dripping ice. "One less mouth to feed." At that, there were gasps from all over the courtroom. That someone could regard any child of their blood – never mind that it was Harry Potter – so coldly when they had done no wrong was if nothing else a disgrace, but to most a great deal more revealing about her character.

"At this time, the Barrister for the Plaintiffs request that Potions Master Severus Snape, who is a certified maker of Veritaserum, be allowed to administer a squib's dose of the potion to Mrs. Dursley."

Before the Minister could answer, one of the elder members of the Wizengamot presiding over the trial leaned forward to be heard better, and spoke. "Why a squib's dose rather than a Muggle's?"

McIntosh seemed to relish the look on the face of his witness as he explained. "Our research revealed that the maternal Grandfather of both Harry's mother Lily, and her sister Petunia was a documented Wizard of low power. Lily came up a Witch of great power. It is our belief and the belief of several bloodline experts that Petunia is, in fact, a Squib rather than a Muggle." The mutinous look on Petunia's face spoke volumes, as did the renewed level of muttering inside the courtroom. Minister Fudge actually had to bang his gavel to restore order.

"Proceed with the Squib's dose, then. It won't hurt her if she _is_ Muggle, but she might be able to fight it if we go the other way 'round."

"Thank you, Minister. Severus, if you could make your way down here for a moment?"

Severus rose from his seat, removed a clearly marked vial stoppered with a dropper from his pocket, and proceeded down into the pit. He calmly approached Petunia as she began to scream. "Petunia," he said, in a deceptively calm tone, "if you do not stick out your tongue and allow me to administer this potion to you, they will call the Aurors back in, and they will force your mouth open, possibly by actually touching you, but just as possibly by using actual magic on you. I'm quite sure you don't want that to happen any more than I want to be standing here. Now Open. Your. Mouth!"

Petunia scrunched her eyes shut, and stuck out her tongue as though she was facing the lesser of two devils. Severus actually rolled his eyes, and administered the prescribed dose. Within moments, it was obvious the hateful woman was floating in a fog of calm, whether she wanted to or not.

As the Potions Master made his way back to his seat in the roped off section of the Gallery, their Barrister approached the now much more placid witness. "Mrs. Dursley, I'm going to ask you a few questions now. Has harm ever come to Harry at the hands of your family that required care at Hospital?"

"Only when Dudley broke bones. That was only a few times, then Vernon taught him to be more careful."

"Until the letters started arriving, where did Harry sleep?"

"Cupboard under the stairs, with the other cleaning and broken things."

"Give us a short answer about how you feel about Magic?"

This reaction was so powerful, that some emotion broke through, even with the Squib's dose of Veritaserum applied. "I _hate_ magic. It took my sister from me. It dropped a burden in my lap without even a how-do-you-do. Magic is evil, freakish, unnatural, and hateful. It should be stamped out."

McIntosh gave a puzzled look. "But if you miss your sister so much, why should you be so indifferent, so cold to your nephew if he's her child?"

"Looking into those eyes, those same eyes, knowing Magic killed them, knowing he's just as magical and it'll only bring him to ruin too – and bring my family down with it. We weren't ready for another child, and we'll always be behind now."

"Is there anything you don't dislike about your nephew?"

"He's always cooked the bacon well, and he's as good a cleaner as the maid I always dreamed of having."

More rumbles of disgust through the courtroom as McIntosh motioned that he was finished with his witness. Warily, Crowley approached to begin his own questions.

"Mrs. Dursley, this is Barrister Crowley. Surely when you read the letter, you had some sympathy for the boy's plight?"

"I might have had more if it were delivered in person, not left with him, on the doorstep in November like a bottle of milk."

"But your close blood ties made you the safest place…"

"And the best target. It's a wonder something hasn't happened before now."

"Surely you felt safe with the precautions you were told of?"

"With none of them explained? Hardly."

Crowley gave a heavy sigh. "No more for this witness."

Fudge quickly moved for the Aurors to take her back out of the courtroom. It seemed he was belatedly considering the possibility that someone might take a pot-shot at a witness with some jinx or hex or another. Why that hadn't occurred to him sooner, especially with this being a case involving the Boy-Who-Lived, Draco couldn't fathom.

"At this time," announced McIntosh, "the Plaintiffs would like to call Vernon Dursley to the stand, if the Aurors are ready to escort him in."

As the now-placid Petunia was being taken out, a team of four Aurors hauled in Vernon, at times almost wrestling with him to keep him moving forward. In the end, it took a modified Mobilicorpus to get him into the Witness seat. All the while his face was purpling as he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Freaks! Scoundrels! What the Bloody Hell are you doing to me! Let me down this instant! I have rights! I'm a free Englishman!"

Leaning forward again, the Minister silenced the walrus of a man, and calmly informed him, "At the moment, sir, you fall under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic, which while normally hidden from the Muggle World, I assure you your Queen and Prime Minister are quite well aware of. You are suspected of violating a number of laws, and it's quite possible you will be handed over to your own please-men to be dealt with after today. Now kindly be quiet, or you will be silenced again until you can be dealt with via potion. I personally disapprove of dealing harshly with Muggles, but the charges that can seemingly be brought against you are most severe." He removed the silencing charm, and quite thankfully Vernon had been shocked enough that he seemed to have lost a bit of his bluster. "My apologies for interrupting, Barrister McIntosh. Please, proceed with your questioning."

"Minister, as this Muggle is extremely hostile, we seek leave to have him given Veritaserum now, rather than later, for the calming effects as much as the truth-inducement."

"So granted," stated Fudge, obviously not keen on a repeat of Vernon's ranting when brought into the room.

Once again, Severus made his way down into the pit with his vial of Veritaserum, this time though, he merely let the man refuse to be dosed. The Aurors were motioned forward, and ended up physically tilting Vernon's head back, and holding his mouth open for his dosing. In a matter of mere moments, it was a much different-seeming man who sat in the witness chair.

Much less anxiously, McIntosh approached the chair. "Mr. Dursley, can you sum up briefly for us your feelings about Magic. "Vile unnatural freakish thing. Ought to be wiped from the face of the earth."

"And would I be correct if I were to assume your feelings for your nephew are much the same."

"Poison in the blood if you ask me, bad blood will always out as my Sister Marge says. Not a real Englishman like my Dudley. Now there's a good active lad, fine example of the next generation."

"Indeed, and how does Dudley's treatment of Harry fit into that."

"We've no money for a hunting club. Dudley's found a substitute. I think he's found his calling – keep meaning to enroll the boy in a good boxing club. Just have to find a youth-club that still believes in bare-knuckling it like they did when I was young. Smart and resourceful my boy – just doesn't test well, but doesn't believe in cheating like that git of a swot Harry does."

"I'll cut you off there," said McIntosh, as the rumbling of murmurs started up again.

"Whose idea was it to put Harry in the cupboard under the stairs?"

"Mine. Didn't want the unnatural little burden cluttering up the rest of the house, what with the things Petunia insisted he _needed_ even if we didn't want him. I still say we should've dropped him at an orphanage, but she said the _freaks_ were probably watching us, and I don't doubt it for a second, letters addressed to his cupboard – how the bloody hell would they know?"

"Now, when you did decide to take the family on Holiday, was young Harry brought along?"

"Are you daft man? Left him with old Mrs. Figg. Crazy bint. Always went 'round smelling of cabbage and cats – had a whole herd of them crawling all over her house and yard. Figured if he went barmy it might at least be better than having him come up as a freak. Pitty it didn't work, we could've just shipped him off to the nuthouse then."

"I… see. What was the most common punishment when, in your eyes, Harry went afoul of the rules?"

"Usually locked him in his cupboard without food for a few days, maybe a week. Or gave my son a little _encouragement_ to round up his friends for a game of Harry Hunting or two. Sometimes both. Nice having a good enough boy he'll serve as a right hand for keeping order in the ranks."

By this point, the murmurs had reached a fever pitch once again, and the Minister had to bang his gavel a several times to regain order. Draco and Snape were both soothingly rubbing Harry's back, trying to keep him in the _now_, rather than the _then_. Granted, he had lived it, and granted, he had suspected some of the things that were said might be the truth. But suspicion and confirmation were two very different things, especially to an eleven year old boy. While both were watching the proceedings with increasing horror, they were doing their level best to keep Harry grounded.

McIntosh indicated he was finished with the Witness. Crowley didn't even try to salvage any acceptable testimony from Vernon, and abstained from attempting a cross-examination. The Auror's hauled Vernon Dursley away, very glad he was still under the effects of the Veritaserum.

"May it please the Court," McIntosh began, "At this time, the Plaintiffs would like to introduce exhibit A – a pensieve projection of selected memories of one Harry J. Potter. Before the pensieve is played for the court, if we could briefly have Severus Snape given Veritaserum by another Potions Master to verify that he took the memories, and he altered them in no way? We'd like to make certain our T's are dotted, as the Muggles say."

The on-duty potions master was brought in, and Severus Snape made his way down to the witness chair, which was kind enough not to bind him. Severus was dosed with some of the Court Batch Veritaserum, then sat silent, waiting for the expected questions from McIntosh.

"Severus Snape, do you so swear the memories you have provided this court were taken willingly from one Harry Potter?"

"I do so swear, on my magic."

"Do you additionally swear that they are in their original state, with no manipulation or tampering?"

"I do so swear, on my magic."

"Do you swear also, that you and Harry are the only ones thus far privy to these memories, save those who may have been present at the time they were formed."

"I do so swear it, on my magic, that to the best of my knowledge that is true."

"Thank you, Professor Snape, you may step down, though I may need to recall you at a later stage of the trial."

As Severus started his way back up to his seat, the Witness Chair, sensing that at the moment it would only be in the way, sank back into the floor, leaving a large, roughly rectangular space at the front of the Courtroom Pit. "I must warn the Gallery," said McIntosh, "portions of this may be very difficult to watch. If you are weak of constitution, I would suggest you leave now." No one moved. Apparently their morbid curiosity outweighed anyone's desire to shield themselves from the truth. Or, Draco considered, they didn't believe it could really be all that bad.

The lights were dimmed, and the projection pensieve was loaded with the first of the numbered vials Severus had provided the Barrister with. Within a moment, a three-dimensional projection appeared in the center front of the pit. The gallery, Wizengamot representatives, witnesses, and Minister, all watched as a comparatively tiny Harry was roused by his Aunt. He wore no glasses, but the vivid green eyes and famous scar gave away his identity.

"Come along you little lout," chided Petunia. "You're tackling the bacon on your own today." They watched as the very young boy emerged from his cupboard and stumbled into the kitchen, pulling a stepstool over in front of the stove, where a – from the boy's perspective – huge cast iron skillet was already warming. Two rashers of bacon sat to one side of the stove, while a platter sat to the other. The very young Harry in the projection kept repeating to himself, "don't burn it, don't burn it," and flinched every time one of the increasing number of grease splatters caught him in the hand, arm, or face. By the time he was finished, the bacon was miraculously unburned – the same could not be said of Harry. Aunt Petunia came to inspect his work, and nodded to herself. "From now on, you'll do the bacon every morning, unless I tell you otherwise. You may take an apple from the counter for your breakfast." The memory faded away into darkness, just as little Harry's eyes crossed the kitchen to see the high-piled platters of food for the rest of the family.

McIntosh drained the memory back into its vial, and loaded the second memory into the special pensieve. Moments later, a new memory snapped into view. Harry, Dudley, and Petunia were all in a curtained off area in a Muggle Hospital's Emergency Department. Harry was cradling his left arm close against his chest, and Aunt Petunia didn't seem certain which boy to send a more annoyed look to. After a brief moment, the curtain parted, and a Muggle Healer came into the makeshift room. "Well my lad," he said brightly to Harry, "care to tell me how you went and dislocated the end of your collarbone so badly?" He shot a look to Petunia, assuming she was more likely to disclose the truth of the matter.

"Boyish wrestling match got a bit out-of-bounds," she answered in a put-upon voice.

"Ah, your brother here get the best of you Harry?" he said, looking at the chart.

"He is _not_ my brother!" Dudley's voice practically poured disgust.

"Cousins," Petunia cut in smoothly before Dudley could say something damaging. "My dear departed sister had a bad auto wreck when the boys were little, and we became Harry's guardians."

"Ah, raised like brothers then," the Doctor said. He leaned back to take in both boys at a glance. "No rough-housing until Harry's been cleared," he told them. "That's a badly strained shoulder. Luckily the dislocation popped itself back in right away, but he'll need to wear a sling for a while. Follow up with your family doctor in… oh… two to three weeks, and he'll give you an estimate how much longer you should be resting up. He may send you for physical therapy as well. I would tell you to consider yourselves lucky it isn't broken, but truthfully strains and sprains are sometimes worse."

He made a few more notes on the chart, then informed them a nurse would be in shortly with the sling, a painkiller, and discharge papers. As soon as he'd left the room, Dudley began poking Harry in his injured shoulder as hard as he could. Harry clenched his jaw, obviously determined not to cry out, but paled in response to the pain. Dudley strategically moved back every time he heard footsteps moving toward their curtain, trying to make certain he wouldn't get caught.

When the nurse arrived, Aunt Petunia allowed her to fit the sling, but declined the painkillers, stating they were against the family's beliefs. She did, however, accept the prescription for them, "just in case it gets to be too much." Swiftly signing the papers, she hustled the boys out of the Hospital. On the walk to the car, she informed him he had better find a method for doing his chores one-handed that didn't involve freakishness, as they would not be following up with the doctor – time would be all the healing he would get. The final moment of the memory was of the car pulling out of the Hospital's lot, Dudley clearly visible and again poking Harry repeatedly in his damaged shoulder.

The murmurs were growing again as McIntosh was draining the memory back into its vial. Before he could load another, Minister Fudge was banging his gavel. "Unless you have another, particularly differing memory to share, representing a different kind of abuse or neglect, perhaps any remaining memories should be left for rebuttal if you feel you need them."

"As you say, Minister," said the Barrister. "At this time, we would like to call Harry Potter as a witness for the plaintiffs." More murmurs, but this time of interest and intrigue.

Draco leaned over to Harry before he stood up, and whispered, "we're all here for you mate." Faintly, from the other side of Harry, he could hear Severus speaking a similar sentiment.

Harry haltingly made his way down, clearly uncertain about being the center of so much attention. When he made it down to the floor, the Witness Chair reappeared, but without manacles or chains. If anything, it seemed to be trying to make itself inviting. In a voice just loud enough to be heard across the hushed courtroom, Harry looked up at their man, and urgently whispered, "Barrister McIntosh, sir? That Veritisyrup stuff makes it so you can't lie, right?"

"That's right, Harry. Why do you ask?"

"Because I want them to give me some, so they know I'm not making anything up."

"Go ahead and sit down in the chair," he said. "I'll see what I can do." Then he turned to the Wizengamot and Minister Fudge. "Please the Court," he said, "The witness has volunteered to be questioned under Veritaserum so there can be no doubts about his answers. What is the court's opinion?"

That question created a lot of buzz. It was very unusual for any witness – especially any witness on a Plaintiff's side – to request being dosed with the truth-potion. The members of the Wizengamot put their heads together and whispered as the crowd continued to mutter to each other in near-confusion. Finally, one of the elder members in attendance looked down at Harry. "You do know you aren't obligated to be questioned under the Truth Serum?"

Harry gulped at addressing such an august authority figure. "Y-yes sir. But I'm used to not being believed by adults."

"Then we see no problem with it, unusual request though it is. Minister?"

Minister Fudge was busy staring down at Harry as though the boy was some newly discovered species of pygmy dragon-unicorn hybrid. "Hmm? Oh, yes yes, of course. If the boy wishes to be dosed, the Court will allow it. Master Snape, if you will?"

Once again, Severus made his way down to the floor. When he got to Harry, he spoke in a whisper that still carried through most of the gallery. "All you need do is stick out your tongue for me. It won't even be enough potion to swallow, but it'll work fast. Are you sure you want to do this?" In answer, Harry opened his mouth, and stuck out his tongue as far as it would go. Shaking his head slightly, Severus administered the potion, then returned to his place in the Gallery once more.

McIntosh approached the Witness Chair slowly, as he might a frightened animal he was trying to sooth. When he spoke, it was in a very gentle voice. "Harry, to begin with – although we've had them verified by Severus Snape, can you tell us if the memories we saw played out for the court are, to the best of your knowledge, genuinely your memories from time with the Dursleys?"

"Yes sir."

"And, having heard the testimony given by your Aunt and Uncle regarding your home life, would you call it an accurate depiction?"

Harry's answer came out with a tiny hitch in his voice. "Y-yes sir."

McIntosh briefly turned away from Harry. "At this time, we would like to introduce the Plaintiff's Exhibit B. Each of you in the Wizengamot has been given a sealed scroll. You may open them now – please note that they are Gringotts tamper-proof copies. He handed Harry a scroll. "Now, Harry, you'll have time to examine the entire document later, but this is a copy of your Parents' Will. Please read for the Court the first highlighted portion.

Harry swallowed hard, then began, seeming to draw on the euphoric side effect of the Veritaserum to keep him from becoming overwhelmed by the feelings the document in his hands created. "In the event of our deaths, we the aforementioned parties wish for our son Harry to be put into the custody of Sirius Black, his Godfather, or Alice Longbottom, his Godmother. Should neither of them be currently suitable or capable, he is to go to one of the more distant branch families, such as the Tonks, or put in the care of Augusta Longbottom, should it not overburden her if she already be taking care of her Grandson Neville. Under No Circumstances is he to go to his Muggle Aunt and Uncle – Petunia and Vernon Dursley, as they dislike anything to do with magic, and he has already exhibited the first signs of juvenile accidental magic. His Guardians, if in need of it, shall be given a stipend of 200 Galleons a month to see to his care. Be they of means themselves, that amount is to be deposited into Harry's trust vault."

"Thank you, Harry," said McIntosh. "Now if you could read the second highlighted portion for me please?"

"Let it be known, so there be no confusion, that at the time of the ritual, we switched secret keepers. Sirius was too obvious a choice, so we went with the least obvious of our friends, Peter Pettigrew. If this version of the will be read, please know that it was never Sirius who betrayed us, but Peter. Do not underestimate his ability to hide, he is a rat animagus."

"Good, good Harry, you're doing just fine." He turned to the Wizengamot members in attendance once more. There should be a second scroll for you. It too, is a Gringotts tamper-proof copy. This is the last Will on Record of Sirius Black before he was thrown in Azkaban without a trial." He turned back to Harry, handing him the new scroll. "And could you read the highlighted portion on this scroll for me? It will become important later."

"I hereby bestow the Title of Heir of the Ancient and Noble house of Black to my Godson, Harry Potter. As he has some blood ties, he is eligible for the title, and likely better suited to it than I am in the first place. When he reaches his Majority, should I be deceased or incapable of retaining the position, I will him the title Lord Black, with all rights and responsibilities thereby granted. If anyone can dust off my family's name, it's James Potter's Son."

"Thank you, Harry. Any Cross for this one, Crowley?"

"Yes, actually," came the answer, Barrister Crowley standing as Barrister McIntosh sat. "Harry, surely, being a young boy only two years into double-digits, you must exaggerate the scope of your treatment at the hands of your guardians. Can you tell us what life with them is really like?"

Well, thought Draco, that question was opening a can of worms Harry would never forgive him for. He was suddenly glad that reporters weren't typically allowed in the courtroom for custody cases. He sat back, waiting to cringe.

"I have to wake before the rest of the household to start breakfast on time. If it isn't finished by the time everyone else is up, I'm punished with extra chores. If it is finished, I'm usually allowed a piece of fruit or possibly toast for my own breakfast, but only after I wash up the dishes from breakfast – during term, that usually makes me late for school. Which is just as well, because I'm punished if my marks are better than Dudley's. Both by my Aunt and Uncle, and by Dudley and his gang. I am not allowed to have friends, because Freaks don't have friends – Dudley sees to that one. I have to be careful not to put too much food in my lunch, or what's missing will be noticed and I'll be punished with a forced fast. I don't know how I have the energy to get away even a quarter of the times I do when Dudley and his friends are Harry Hunting. When I get home I'm required to help with dinner before I can even think about doing homework. But again, that helps me keep my marks below Dudley's. In the summers I'm usually out working on the lawn or the garden, or repainting the fence, or washing the cars, or manicuring the flowerbeds from after breakfast until dark. Dudley and his gang don't bother me as much then, unless it's raining, because I'm allowed to get slightly less done on days with rain. I can remember 5 instances of broken bones from Dudley and his gang, but I know there were more before I can remember clearly. I don't know how many sprained or strained joints I've had. Uncle Vernon has given me 7 concussions that I know of. Everyone who has ever tried to intervene on my behalf has been convinced by my Aunt and Uncle that I'm a terrible lying child. I also have to –"

"You may stop answering the question," interjected Crowley frantically. "The defense has no more questions for this witness." He sat down at his table as quickly as he could.

"Harry," said McIntosh gently, "you may go back to your seat. I'm afraid I may need to call you again, but that time will be much more pleasant."

Harry was now a rather peculiar color, and scrambled back up to his seat as quickly as he could. Immediately, everyone around him began trying to sooth him, as he tried to keep himself from hyperventilating.

"At this time," said McIntosh, "the Plaintiffs call to witness Draco Malfoy." Draco was a bit surprised, but gamely made his way down to the Witness Chair. As he sat down, McIntosh approached him. "How did you meet your Cousin Harry?"

"We were both in Madam Malkin's at the same time," answered Draco, giving the real truth first, then proceeding to the _this time_ portion of his answer. "When I realized he was Harry Potter, and saw how shabbily he was dressed, I suggested he order a wardrobe, like Mum had done for me. I didn't know he was my Cousin yet, though. I talked him through doing the Gringotts draft, then we both went together to Ollivander's to get our wands together – that was where Mum was waiting for me. She told us we were distant cousins. We ended up spending the whole day shopping together."

"And when the day was over?"

"Mum used his picturing of his Aunt and Uncle's back garden to guide her in appararating us all there. There was a huge fight going on in their kitchen. I never thought I'd be scared of a Muggle – especially once I got my wand, even if I haven't been to school yet, but Mr. Dursley was terrifying. He threw us all out, including Harry. He's been staying with us since."

"And what's your impression of Harry?"

"He's great, we're good friends already. But mum and I could tell right away there was something off about his home life. Sometimes gets jumpy for no reason – especially if he thinks he's made somebody mad – it's even worse if that somebody's an adult, but anybody bigger than him, really. And it's like… he either really trusts somebody, or he doesn't trust them at all."

"Where did you go after the Dursley's?"

"To the Tonks'. I didn't know they were family either. Mum says I have to pay more attention during genealogy lessons. We talked with Aunt Andi for a little while, and made an appointment to see her the next morning."

"And what happened at that appointment?"

"Weird stuff. I'm sure Aunt Andi could explain better than I could, but after Harry was on bed-rest for a week. He's still got a couple days before he's cleared to… you know… act normal and all. Between what happened and some other stuff, he's got to take lots of potions right now. He's even got one from the Occulist."

"And what kinds of things do you and Harry like to do together?"

"We study a lot. I think he wants to know everything before we get to school. We play chess. Exploding Snap is out for a few more days, but it was fun when we played. Father's teaching him how to swim and how to fly – but those lessons are pretty short because we're not supposed to tire him out too much right now. Oh! And we're going to a Montrose home game next week."

"Sounds like you two have a lot of fun together."

"Yeah, it's almost like having a brother, except everything's new to him, and I get to see how he reacts to stuff for the first time. The surprise party was fun, 'cause it was his first birthday party ever, but the surprise part wasn't such a good idea. They should have listened to my Godfather about that part."

"And who is your Godfather?"

"Severus Snape. He's brewing all the potions Harry's got to take right now for him."

"I see. " He turned toward the opposing table. "Anything for him Crowley?"

"No," said Crowley sourly.

"Alright Draco. Go on back to your seat, I may need you again, but probably not."

Draco scampered back to his seat – not that he would ever admit to scampering anywhere.

The next witness was Aunt Andi, who gave lovely warm testimony about Harry himself, but dry, clinical Healer-speak when it came to discussing how he'd been summarily removed from Healer's care after his parents died, was woefully behind on his inoculations, had a history of bodily injury, and explained about the near-disaster when she tried to do a deep core-scan to check on that aspect of his health, including the strange black substance that had come out of his scar – which had been submitted both to the Gringotts curse-breakers, and to the Department of Mysteries for analysis, and spoke at length about the dangers of putting a binding on a youth's core without proper supervision from a Healer. She explained about how the surprise party had nearly been a disaster, but turned out alright in the end, thanks to Draco and Severus. She also passed along the report from the Occulist, which revealed the permanent damage to his sight most likely caused by the combination of malnutrition and repeated concussions. Before returning to her place in the Gallery, she too was told she might be recalled if needed. Again, Crowley seemingly had no questions for cross.

Madam Longbottom was called, and made a most stately descent down to the Witness chair. McIntosh bowed slightly toward her before addressing her. "Madam Longbottom," he began, "did you know you were on the list of candidates to take custody of young Harry?"

"Vaguely," she replied. "I know I remember James speaking to me of it – he wanted his son raised by a house with the power to shape him into the Lord he would one day have to become. But at the time of his parents' deaths, I was so quickly embroiled in turmoil and tragedy within my own family, that by the time I realized I should have been contacted, I had no idea to whom to turn to find out what had become of the lad."

"When you were informed of this hearing, you did nothing to stake a counter-claim to that of the Tonks' and Malfoy's. Can you tell us why that is?"

"Honestly? At my age, it has been difficult enough looking after Neville properly. While I question the thought of the Malfoys taking a role in his life, I know the Tonks are a good, light family, and feel their influence would counterbalance any dark coming from the opposite side. I feel I would be doing the boy a disservice to add any more confusion. And in any case, especially now that I have heard the testimony read from the Wills, I highly question why anyone else but the remaining free descendants of the Black family could be any more appropriate until his Godfather has been freed and cleared. Though they too would likely question the choice of the Malfoys, from my memories of James and Lily, I think the solution these two families are putting forth is perhaps the option that they would most favor of those that are available. Especially given that, should Sirius remain imprisoned for some unfathomable reason, the Lordship of the Black Family will pass to Harry when he reaches his Majority. He ought to know what he will be dealing with, and Andromeda and Narcissa are both exemplars of that Ancient and Noble house."

When Crowley again indicated he had no questions for the Witness, McIntosh dismissed her back to her seat with as much bowing and gratitude as was seemly given the setting. She was, after all, the Dowager of Clan Longbottom, and until her Grandson and Harry reached their Majority, the highest ranked person in the room, if one didn't count the Wizengamot members.

"The Plaintiffs wish to call one more Witness, please the Court," said Barrister McIntosh. At Minister Fudge's nod, he continues. "If the Aurors are ready to bring him in, the Plaintiffs call Sirius Black." The near universal gasp seemed to temporarily suck all the air from the room.

**AN:** As I warned you last week, I have no idea how a proper British Courtroom runs, but I figure the Wizards do it a little differently. I took a little inspirations from what we do see in the books, and some more from my own imagination.

Thanks as ever to Lupinefire, without who's beta-work this story wouldn't be half of what it is. Thanks to you too, for reading.

Next week, Sirius, fresh from Azkaban, takes the stand! And a few other things. Currently working on Chapter 21 – in case you're wondering why a backlog of chapters is so important to me, it's because I'll be working on an original project during NaNoWriMo next month, and I don't want to have to go off my posting schedule because of it.

Again, Thank You for Reading! An amusing Rec for you – Poison Pen by GenkaiFan


	10. You Can't Be Serious!

**A/N:** Not my Sandbox friends and neighbors. But I have a great time playing here!

Chapter Ten

_You Can't Be Serious_

Much like with Vernon Dursley, a team of four Aurors escorted Sirius Black into Courtroom Three. Unlike Vernon, however, Sirius was neither ranting nor struggling. He shuffled forward toward the Witness Chair, almost as if he was unaware of the four wands pointed at him every step of the way. His hair and beard were long and matted, but somehow patchy, almost as if he were afflicted with mange. As he sat in the chair, the manacles and chains sprang into existence around him on command, but seemed to do so gently. The courtroom was again abuzz with speculation.

Barrister McIntosh approached the notorious prisoner with what appeared to be no fear. He leaned in close to talk to him. "Sirius," he said. "I know you understand that no one will accept your testimony without a heavy dose of Veritaserum. Please don't react badly to the man administering it, regardless of the past between the two of you."

Taking a step back, he addressed the court. "Due to the nature of the charges that have long-since been leveled against this man, we request of the Court permission to dose him heavily with Veritaserum, such that his words will be unimpeachably believed."

"Granted," said Fudge absently, seeming absolutely fascinated at the display before him. This time McIntosh merely gestured to Severus, who – with a scowl upon his face – came back down again, seeming to heartily wish he wasn't a registered brewer of the potion.

"Alright Black," Snape said, "out with your tongue."

"And a hello to you too, Snivellous," answered Sirius, just prior to sticking out his tongue not as though about to be dosed with a potion, but more in line with an eight year old, taunting someone across a playground.

Severus droppered the potion onto his tongue, then waited for the expected effect. As Sirius's head lolled back a bit, he drawled out something that seemed to greatly confuse and surprise the Potions Master. "'M sorry, Snape," he mumbled. "Let the stupid get the better of me. Deserve my fleas…" But as soon as Severus was out of sight, he seemed to let go of the topic. As Snape made his way back to his seat, his face appeared very perplexed indeed – to those who knew how to read it, anyway.

McIntosh approached again, just as fearlessly. The courtroom was eerily silent. "I have a number of questions for you, Mr. Black. Are you prepared to answer them?"

"Don't have any choice now," he said, giving an odd chuckle.

"Just so. Were you the Potters' Secret Keeper?"

"No, I was the decoy."

"Who was the Secret-Keeper?"

"Peter, the Rat."

"Did you give that information to anyone."

"No!" His head lolled to the side. "I'd have died before I betrayed them."

"If you weren't the Secret-Keeper, and you didn't give away Peter, why is it that when they found you in that Muggle alleyway, you kept repeating the words _It's my fault_?"

"I was the one who suggested the switch. I knew no one would suspect Peter. But _we_ should have. Didn't know he'd switched sides, the weak coward."

"So you killed him?"

"No. I was going to take him into custody and get my life in order for my Godson. But the bastard sliced off his own finger then set off an explosion. I'm not sure he even knew there was a Muggle gas line there. So much carnage – it was as bad as anything in the war."

"You think he's still alive?"

"Probably hiding out somewhere as a rat – he's an animagus."

"Was your wand ever checked for prior spells when you were taken into custody?"

"Not that I know of."

"Were you ever questioned – with or without Veritaserum?"

"No."

"Were you given a trial of any sort?"

"No, just shipped off to Azkaban's High Security Wing."

"Do you know who signed off on it?"

"Crouch, I think. Bastards put me near Bella."

"So with no trial, no questioning, and not even any wand testing, you were sent to the High Security Wing of Azkaban, and have been there for nearly 10 years?"

"Ten years?" Tears began to flow down the man's cheeks. "Harry's half grown, he'll be in Hogwarts soon… missed so much…"

"It's been reported that you were among the first to respond to the call from the Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow. Did you see Harry at that time?"

"Angry curse mark on his head… Hagrid offered to take him to Dumbledore… didn't ask where I was going… figured Dumbledore would take good care of him… is he OK? Is he with Frank and Alice?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that just now, Mr. Black." McIntosh paused, seemingly about to break off his questioning, then added one question as an afterthought. "Mr. Black, if you could tell Harry any one thing, what would it be?"

"Sorry I wasn't there, Pup. Sorry I screwed the whole bloody thing over. Should've been there for you. Love you. Firstborn in our little pack. I'm sorry Pup."

"Thank you, Mr. Black. Crowley, are you going to let this one go without a cross as well."

"No," snarled Crowley as he stood. "Mr. Black, do you deny you used magic in front of a crowd of Muggles?"

"No. Used a reveal to show me where Peter was, and a charm to force him to face me in human form. Was going to call in the Obliviators as soon as I could. I may have been off duty, but there were extenuating circumstances, damn it."

"So you went, off duty, out of uniform, to chase a fugitive who was hiding in a Muggle area?"

"Wasn't time. I knew where he would probably be, but I knew he wouldn't be there very long. The war hadn't been declared over, we still had extended powers. Two of my best friends were dead, my Godson injured, and it was _my fault_ that the man responsible – who I had thought was also one of my best friends – was about to get away. I had to go, or I'd never have a clean conscience."

His face screwed up in disgust, Crowley stalked back to his table. "Witness is dismissed," he snarled.

"Not so fast," came a voice from the Wizengamot box. "Remove him only to the detention cells, and see that he's properly cleaned up. I believe we should discuss his situation as well when we deliberate."

Looking rather incredulous – though Draco couldn't tell if it was at the testimony or at the order from the Wizengamot – the Aurors who had brought Sirius in did as was asked of them. Either way, Harry was thoroughly shaken up, and Draco continued to rub soothing circles on his back, trying to keep him grounded after his first sight of his Godfather, and learning the man had been falsely imprisoned.

Barrister McIntosh looked into the serious faces of the Wizengamot members in attendance, then looked at the rather stormy countenance of the Minister of Magic. "At this time, esteemed members of the court, the Plaintiffs rest, although we reserve the right to call rebuttal witnesses if needed."

Barrister Crowley stood up, a distinctly sour look on his face. "The thing you must remember," he said, by way of an opening statement, "is that though they be facts, the facts do not always paint the bigger picture." He looked up into his own gallery of Witnesses. At the stern, searing glare from one of them, he slumped his shoulders, as though leading himself to his own slaughter. "At this time, the Defense calls Albus Dumbledore to the stand."

Dumbledore stood, and walked down to the now manacle-free (but somehow still unyielding in appearance) Witness Chair, his demeanor every bit as regal as Augusta Longbottom's had been. Holding his head high, he perched on the seat, trying very hard to make it appear as though it were comfortable.

"Headmaster Dumbledore – please excuse me for omitting the rest of your titles in the interests of time – you informed me before our arrival today that you wished to make a statement to the court?"

"Yes, my boy," answered Dumbledore, in the same tone one might use on a student who has done something particularly clever. "I wish merely to remind the court that everything I do – and have ever done – is in keeping with a desire to farther the Greater Good. Harry Potter was placed with his Mother's Sister, because it was his Mother's sacrifice that I believe saved him, and wards built upon that would be strongest if he was living with blood from that side of his family. In addition, I wanted him to grow up away from the fame that would hound him should he grow up in our world. I was merely trying to keep the boy safe and sane."

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Crowley. He began to motion for Dumbledore to step down, when there was a distinct throat-clearing from McIntosh.

"Might I begin my Cross," came the question from the Plaintiff's Barrister.

"Terribly sorry," said Crowley, looking as though he'd just swallowed something particularly bitter. But just the same he sat down, and yielded the floor to McIntosh.

"Please the Court," said McIntosh, "But we request permission to treat this witness as hostile, and question under a heavy dose of Veritaserum."

Minister Fudge blinked in clear confusion. "You want to dose the _Head_ of the _Wizengamot_ with Veritaserum to question him?"

"Yes, I do in fact. It's well known he is more than capable of talking around questions posed to him. In the interests of time, I feel the ability to get straight answers to my questions will be most beneficial."

Despite a face full of shock, and having to bang his gavel several times to quiet down the courtroom, the Minister of Magic slowly nodded. "If the representatives of the Wizengamot are willing to agree, I will allow it."

All heads turned to the Wizengamot box, where the predominantly aged heads were huddled together. Finally, the eldest, acting as spokesman, stood. "Although it is highly irregular, this has been a highly irregular hearing thus far. We will allow it."

Drawing himself up as tall as he could whist still sitting, Dumbledore used his most stern voice. "_I_ do not agree, and _I_ do not allow it!"

The Wizengamot spokesman turned serious eyes on the Headmaster. "Albus, alas you are not here in any of your official capacities at the moment. You are here as a witness, and are thereby subject to the rules that govern the handling of witnesses."

With an air of resignation, Albus shook his head with what appeared to be a forced calm. Draco thought to himself that it was, in fact, the old codger's fault – he wanted to testify in the first place.

And so once again Severus made his round trip down to the Witness Chair, this time to dose someone he thought he would never see under the effects of any form of Truth Serum. He didn't even say anything, he appeared much too deep in shock.

After the obligatory few moments for the potion to take effect, McIntosh approached the Witness Chair again. "Headmaster, was it or was it not you that ultimately took custody of Harry Potter on the night of Halloween, 1981?"

"It was," said Dumbledore, sounding quite far away.

"Was it or was it not you who left him, with only a note, on the doorstep of Petunia and Vernon Dursley?"

"It was."

"You mentioned blood ties being important – were the wards placed to protect Harry Potter at that location in fact any sort of Blood Ward?"

"Yes." This brought gasps not only from the gallery, but from the Wizengamot box as well.

"Were you or were you not the individual who placed a binding on Harry Potter's magical core?"

"I was."

"Was there a healer present?"

"No."

"Was he, in fact, checked over by any healer prior to your leaving him on the Dursley doorstep?"

"No."

"Were you the one who had the Potters' Will sealed?"

"Yes."

"Was there a reason for that, beyond your blatant intent to keep control of Harry Potter?"

"It was for the Greater Good."

"Were you the bonder for the Potters' Secret Keeping Rite?"

"Yes."

"So you knew it was actually Peter Pettigrew who was the Secret Keeper?"

"Yes."

"Did you inform anyone of this when Sirius Black was taken into custody?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It was better for Harry to be raised in the Muggle World."

"Why?"

"It was for the Greater Good."

"If it was so important that Harry be raised Muggle, why then was he only contacted by owl at first, then by the Gamekeeper Hagrid, rather than by your Deputy Headmistress or one of the other Heads of House like a typical Muggleborn or Muggle-raised student?"

"It was for the Greater Good."

"What is the Greater Good?"

"The Good of all Wizarding people."

"Is this the same Greater Good that Gellert Grindelwald spoke of?"

"Not exactly – Muggles should not be harmed on principle, and Muggleborn can be very capable Wizards and Witches."

"But otherwise you agree with his politics?"

"For the most part."

"Then why were you the one who defeated him?"  
"For the Greater Good."

McIntosh stopped to draw a deep breath after the rapid-fire questioning. The room was so silent, you could've heard a broom-twig drop. Glancing at the Wizengamot and Minister, he appeared satisfied he had made his points succinctly. Draco now almost wished the press _had_, in fact, been allowed in for this hearing.

"I have no more questions for this witness," he said after a very pregnant pause. Dumbledore slowly rose and returned to his seat, neck reddening from the heat of every eye on him.

Barrister Crowley lowered his head to the table. It was muffled, but in the perfect silence, everyone could make out his words. "The Defense Rests."

**A/N: **First off, I apologize for the pun in this chapter's title. But between Sirius testifying, and then the testimony of one Albus too-many-names Dumbledore, it just… fit. I also apologize for the slightly shorter nature of this chapter. At least it feels short to me, but it wanted to be on its own. I hate when chapter bits refuse to go with the chapter before or the chapter after.

As ever, I owe much thanks to my spectacular Beta, Lupinefire. The corrections are hers, the errors are mine.

Tune in next week for the verdict, and the immediate aftermath of that verdict!

(Meanwhile, I'm making good progress, and have just started Chapter 23.)


	11. And The Winner Is?

**A/N:** Hope no one's guarding the sandbox… I'm headed back in.

Chapter Eleven

_And The Winner Is?_

Normally, if what Draco remembered about Ministry Trials was accurate, spectators and witnesses alike would generally go and grab refreshments during the time the Wizengamot deliberated a case. In this instance, however, everyone stayed in the courtroom – a quiet buzz rising from the crowd as everyone debated the myriad potential outcomes and surprising revelations that had come out during the hearing.

After a few moments, Harry elbowed Draco lightly in the side – Draco tracked his gaze, and saw that he was looking at Neville and Madam Longbottom. "Come with me," Harry practically hissed in a whisper. "I want to talk to him, but she looks scary."

Draco thought for a quick moment, then came to a decision. "Oh, alright. Just remember the manners we went over – she's really old fashioned that way, I'll bet."

And so the two made their way carefully down and over to the portion of the Box where the Longbottoms sat. Harry awkwardly bowed, keeping his eyes up as befit his station as heir of one of – no, two of the Ancient and Noble houses. Draco kept his eyes down, as while his family was powerful, it wasn't nearly as well established. "Madam Longbottom, ma'am," said Harry with a slight hesitation in his voice. "I had wondered if I might be allowed to speak with your grandson." Belatedly, he remembered what he had forgotten, and gestured to Draco. "This is my friend and Cousin, Draco Malfoy."

Augusta leaned back a bit and seemed to smile at the effort. "Of course you may speak with Neville. I'm glad to see you holding up so well, your parents would be proud of you for taking the effort to try to chart your own course."

"Thank you ma'am," said Harry, then he moved down a row to sit next to a fidgeting Neville. "Hullo," he said to the nervous boy. "You're Neville, right? I'm Harry. We're Godbrothers."

"More than you know," said the boy in a quiet voice. "Your parents were the first choice in my parents' Will. If everything had gone differently, we might have grown up together."

"I don't know how today will turn out," said Harry nervously, "but d'you suppose we could at least owl each other, and try to see each other once we get to school? I don't have much in the way of family, and it would be great to have more."

The doughy faced boy beamed at that. "Of Course! I'm sure Draco knows things to tell you I don't know, but I probably know things he doesn't too. And you can help me learn more about the Muggle world – if the subject isn't too painful for you, that is."

"The only part of the Muggle world I find painful is my Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin, and I have a feeling I won't have to be dealing with them anymore. I'd be happy to teach you Neville."

It was then that, out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed Severus trying to catch their attention. He tugged at Harry's sleeve. "Harry, I hate to cut short your first meeting with your Godbrother – well, that you can remember, anyway – but I think Severus wants to tell one of us something."

"Oh. Alright. I promise I'll write you Neville!"

"Same," said the Longbottom boy.

Harry and Draco hurried back over to the Potions Master. Draco was the first to speak. "Yes, Uncle Severus?"

"Harry," he said, pausing a long time before saying any more. "You ought to know that there is longstanding bad blood between your Godfather and I. Like your Father, he was one of the boys who… did not get along with me in school. If he is cleared, I hope he has a clear mind and can let the past go – I will certainly try to. But if he cannot, please know that I will never try to make you choose between the two of us. I will always be here for you if you need me."

"Thank you Uncle Severus," said Harry, quite sincerely. "I'm guessing some part of him knows he should try to move on, given what he said under the Veratasyrup stuff."

"Veritaserum, Harry. The name comes from the Latin Veritas, which means Truth."

Harry gave a surpisingly cheeky grin. "Why do I feel like you're telling me I should be studying Latin in my spare time?"

"If you're going that route, you'll need much more than just Latin for some of the older spells. But if you feel you want to…"

"Maybe when I'm older. Or maybe I'll do it backwards and learn the roots from the spells?"

"Harry…" said Draco melodramatically. "I'm having a vision… I see Ravenclaw in your future!"

"You think so?"

Severus gave a rare chuckle. "Harry, you just debated whether it would be more fun and useful to learn the ancient languages first to recognize them in spells, or to learn the root words from the spells themselves. He may be right."

"Well, it's not Hufflepuff," said Draco.

"Oi!" Tonks shot over to them. "I was a 'puff. We're not just the leftovers you know!"

"Now if everyone would just calm down," put in Aunt Andi.

"Yes, please, no public scenes," added Aunt Cissa.

"Severus," Lucius added in a stage whisper, "you _did_ bring the headache remedy just in case, didn't you?"

Draco noticed that everyone in the nearby section of Observer's Gallery was smiling slightly. As though it had just been confirmed to them that having the Boy-Who-Lived under the joint care of the Tonks and Malfoy families might in fact be a very good idea indeed.

MM

In relatively short order, the Wizengamot members filed back into the courtroom, and an expectant silence fell thick over all those in the Galleries. Even Minister Fudge seemed lost for words. The low ranking official took center stage in the pit once more. "Oye, oye, oye, the empaneled members of the Wizengamot have returned with their statements. Listen one, and Listen all, lest judgment fall upon ye as well."

This time the spokesperson appeared to be the youngest representative of the group. "We the duly sworn and selected representatives of the Wizengamot presiding over this hearing have reached our decisions, based on the information that has come out over the course of the proceedings. We ask that you attempt to hold your reactions until the end of our pronouncements."

She cleared her throat, and picked up a scroll that appeared to be longer than anyone had expected. "In the matter of the treatment of one Harry James Potter by his Muggle Relatives the Dursleys: Petunia and Vernon are to be entered into the Muggle justice system, whereby they will serve out a term of no less than ten years and no more than twenty in the Muggle Prison system. The Minor Child Dudley will be entered into the Muggle Reform System, where he will serve out sentence in a Muggle Juvenile Detention Facility until such time as he reaches the age of Sixteen, then he shall enter the Muggle Foster Care system, or be allowed – should his time in Detention be served peaceably – to join the junior ranks of the Muggle Military Cadets."

A minor noise of reaction began to spring up, and she pinned the crowd with her eyes to silence them. It worked, just barely. "In the matter of the lack of Trial of Sirius Orion Black: it is the recommendation of this court that he immediately be removed from detention at the Azkaban facility, and placed in holding at St. Mungo's secure ward, where he will receive treatment until he is judged sufficiently well to rejoin society and take up the mantle of Lord Black, which has hitherto been denied him. Restitution for his Pain, Suffering, and Lost Livelihood will be determined on a later date by a full quorum of the Wizengamot."

Here she paused for breath. "In the matter of actions taken by one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and the repercussions thereof: He is immediately ordered to pay restitution to the Potter Family Vaults for lost interest, figured at the current rate – to be determined by the Gringotts Goblins. An emergency meeting of the Hogwarts Governers is requested by this body with the suggestion that he be removed from his post of Headmaster. At the next full meeting of the Wizengamot, there shall be a vote of no-confidence taken against him as head of that August body, and a notice shall be sent to the high council of the ICW suggesting the same. A recommendation shall be made that he be retroactively stripped of the title Order of Merlin, First Class. And an Inquiry will be convened to determine if additional criminal charges should be brought against him."

The gasps and mumbles of reaction reached such a fever-pitch, that Minister Fudge had to frantically bang his gavel before the woman could proceed with the reading of the judgement summaries.

"Finally, in the matter of Custody of Harry James Potter: The Court approves the arrangement of temporary joint custody to be shared by the Tonks and Malfoy families, with each sharing equal access to the Minor Child known as Harry. When Lord Black has been deemed fit to take up his mantle, he will be given sole custody, but with the recommendation that the families that have had custody in the meantime continue to aid in the rearing and care of said Minor Child."

Another short breath. "These rulings, in more detail, will be available to the public through the Hall of Records as of the open of Ministry Business hours tomorrow. One additional recommendation – we believe it would be in the best interests of both if, as Lord Black begins to heal, Mr. Potter periodically be taken to visit with him at St. Mungo's with supervision."

She sat back down, and pandemonium erupted within the courtroom. For the most part, people seemed satisfied – or even happy – with the rulings. All save Dumbledore, who sat with an expression on his face that made Draco consider it might be the same as if the sour from every lemon-drop the man had ever eaten had hit him all at the same time.

Well, he had come back to change things… he just hadn't expected quite such sweeping changes quite so soon. Hopefully he hadn't messed anything up too far in the other direction.

MM

Everyone except Lucius retired to the Malfoy Manor for an impromptu victory party. Lucius, recognizing that a party atmosphere would not be conductive to business, had requested of Madam Longbottom if they could host the emergency Hogwarts Governors and Trustee Board meeting at her home. After he sweetened the deal by telling her it would go a long way towards earning her a nomination to at least the Trustee board, where a seat sat vacant at the moment, she acquiesced, and so he headed to the Longbottom estate to start calling in the entire School Council to inform them of the changes coming, and shepherd them through cobbling together the first stages of a plan. While Draco wished he could go and find out what they were deciding immediately, there was no practical way to be two places at once, and a victory party was a much more enjoyable way to spend the afternoon.

Once they had arrived back at the Manor, Aunt Andi gave Harry an impromptu once-over, and declared that his ban from strenuous activity was lifted a few days early – though he was to stop any activity if he felt strange in the slightest, and to fire-call her at home or at work if any strangeness seemed in any way worrisome.

Dora seemed to be feeling torn between spending time with the boys, or spending time with her Aunt and Parents. She had left school, and was about to begin Auror training, but just the same, she seemed as though she wasn't entirely comfortable around the adults in a casual setting just yet. "Oi," said Draco, mimicking one of her usual exclamations. "You coming, Dora?"

That seemed to successfully make up her mind for her. She made a beeline out of the study, following the boys. "Wotcher, you two," she said enthusiastically. "What's the game plan?"

"Harry hasn't decided yet," Draco informed her. "I told him he gets first pick, since it's really his day and all."

"And he doesn't know what he wants to do?" She tutted, sounding rather like one of the tutors Draco had once had.

"It's more I don't know what I _don't _want to do," laughed Harry. "I haven't been this free in… well, as long as I can remember!"

That thought sobered the three up for a moment. There was a long, slightly uncomfortable pause as they stood there in the hallway outside the drawing room.

"Enough gloom," Draco finally said. "On to the fun – what'll it be? Pitch, pond, Exploding Snap – you haven't gotten to play with more than two people going at a time yet."

"Oi," groaned Dora, "I'm _terrible_ at Exploding Snap!" And that as good as made up Harry's mind for him. Apparently he didn't believe someone could be worse than a true beginner like himself.

MM

A good hour, and many, _many_ coats of soot later, Harry and Draco had to agree that their cousin Dora was truly as awful at Exploding Snap as she'd said she was. As they were rapidly running out of replacement decks, Harry and Draco decided it should be her pick next – she was technically the guest, after all.

"Flying," she said, without a heartbeat to think over her answer. "But only because you two miscreants are too young for me to use as dueling practice," was swiftly added with a smirk.

They all made their way down to the equipment shed just outside the bounds of the half-pitch, so the boys could get their brooms. "I think we still have a few guest brooms in here," Draco told his visiting cousin. "They're in pretty good shape, only a few years out of date."

"No need," she replied, pulling a tiny box out of her pocket. When she enlarged it, they could see it was a hard-shelled broom box. She rested it against the side of the shed to open it. "I've taken to carrying it with me. Somebody told me one of the instructors at the Academy is a real stickler for always being prepared, and maybe it'll earn me some points that I'm ready to make a strategic getaway if I need to."

"So are we just flying, or trying to play?" Harry looked up at the hoops as he asked.

"One on one chaser with somebody stuck as keeper is no fun," said Dora. "Do you guys have a practice Snitch? We could do a three-way seeker's duel – it wasn't my position, but you guys really haven't been at it long enough to have settled into positions either. "

"Sure," affirmed Draco. "I'll toss it out on the grass with a countdown timer, so we'll all be in the air when it goes up."

"Great idea," she said. "Just – Harry – promise you'll say something if you start to not feel well. My Mum will have my hide if I let you faint out here on the pitch."

"I'll be fine," he assured. "But if you insist, I promise I'll faint into your broom, not onto the pitch."

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

Meanwhile, Draco was already lazily circling the pitch. "Timer's counting down already you lot." He laughed as they both scrambled up into the air, still continuing their argument about Harry's health, or lack thereof.

Another hour or so later, when Harry had caught the snitch five times, and no one else had gotten even close to it, Draco looked at his new almost-brother as they landed. "You remember at the trial when I predicted Ravenclaw in your future, Harry?"

"Yeah."

"Well unless they have some professionals hidden in the tower, I predict a position on the team as Seeker for you at some point. That was amazing!"

"Harry see shiny ball. Harry catch shiny ball. Not so hard."

"Did better than us," Dora reminded him. "And I was on my house team. I was a reserve Chaser, was all, but still! You've got some natural talent, kiddo."

"You're not _that_ much older than we are. Stop calling us kids," said Harry.

"Yeah," added Draco, with an evil look, "or we go back to calling you Nymphadora."

"Pax," she said. "I will try to remember that my two younger cousins are in fact mature gentlemen!"

At that point it was more-or-less mutually agreed on that if the festivities were planned to continue, there was likely to be lunch at some point, and they ought to go and have a look at what the adults were up to.

MM

They arrived at the Drawing Room just after Lucius, who was engrossed in explaining to the other adults how the emergency meeting had gone, and how it was he had managed to return so soon. "Evidently, I wasn't the only one who's been seeing something – not this in particular, of course – but something disastrous involving Albus coming for some time, and been quietly forming contingency plans on my own. So on the whole, the meeting moved along rather quickly. Given the old man's situation, the vote to remove was swift and unanimous. It's too close to the school year to make many real changes, but we have a few in place that will be either raised, or carried out, when we have a Board Meeting including the faculty early next week. And I think Madam Longbottom will be on the board sooner rather than later. Her plan for figuring out where we should go next year with changes was, I believe, a rather brilliant one, and shouldn't be too difficult to put into action. Although I dare say that it will be the first time that Hogwarts' Guest Quarters will be this busy in over a century. Two or three, possibly. Hopefully we'll have many coming and going."

Having wound himself down, he gratefully accepted a snifter of Cognac from his wife, and took a seat in his favorite chair of those in the room. Noticing that the youngsters had come into the space, he motioned them over. "Dora, as this isn't of high interest to you – although I know you would be interested – why don't you help the others settle on a lunch menu. Boys, I'd like a word."

Nodding, and half-mumbling "Yes, Uncle Lucius," under her breath, Dora moved back over to her parents and Narcissa. Harry and Draco stood nearly at attention in front of the seated man.

"No need for such formality at the moment," he said, taking a rather large drink of his Cognac, "we are all Gentlemen of the same House." Unconsciously he nearly echoed what his wife's young Cousin Dora had said earlier in jest.

"Pardon me, Uncle Lucius," said Harry anxiously. "I know Draco and I are related though the Black Line, but you're House Malfoy, aren't you?"

"Ah, I shall hold up a moment what I was going to say for a genealogy lesson you haven't had yet. As the Malfoys are powerful, but not yet either an Ancient nor Noble house in the eyes of the Wizengamot, when the contract for my marriage to your Aunt Cissa was negotiated, it was agreed that the Malfoys would become an affiliated line of House Black for a certain number of generations, at which time, the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black would set us free, either to the status we had been at, or with the option of making us a Noble House as a Cadet Branch of the Blacks. You'll learn more as you get deeper into Wizarding Genealogy, but it's a complicated system that was put in place to allow families with wealth and power a chance to move up at least slightly in the system – the circumstances that allow for becoming even a Cadet Noble House outside of an arrangement such as that are few indeed. And to be declared Ancient, your bloodline must persist for a very, very long time under the same name. Do you understand?"

"I… I think so." He fidgeted, he obviously couldn't help it. Draco wondered how long it would take for male authority figures in a familiar setting to stop making Harry nervous.

"Good. Now to the business I had with you fine young men. I know that the two of you are heading to Hogwarts fresh as First-Years, and I also know that you will do your best to do all the Family Names behind the two of you proud. But I thought you might want to know of a few things that will be going on. You already heard this morning, and I can confirm for you it has now been done – Dumbledore has been sacked as Headmaster. His behavior concerning you, Harry, was abominable. And any man who would take such actions concerning one child, in his infancy, should not be left the charge of an entire school. We've worked out a system whereby any major infractions of the rules, or arrangements needing approval of the Headmaster shall for this year only be considered by a sub-committee drawn from members of the Board of Governors and the Board of Trustees – with a caveat that should they be relation or guardian of any student needing such intervention, that member must recuse themselves, and act only in the parental role. Still following me?"

Draco and Harry nodded. This was serious stuff rooted in serious language, but it seemed Harry was following as easily as Draco. Which was good, it would take forever to water down the entire explanation, as it seemed there was a good deal left to go.

"Good. Now, more common, day-to-day issues will be settled by three of the four Heads of the School Houses, the Head of the offender's House recusing himself into an intermediary or spokesman role, to help ensure fairness. That covers the majority of the temporary changes to disciplinary procedure, which I expect you boys to have very little – if _anything_ – to do with, a point that I hope goes without saying." He paused, sipping at his Cognac now.

"The majority of Faculty and Curriculum changes will be settled over next summer, with the help of outside recommendations I'll mention in a moment. This year, though, is the year we finally sack Professor Binns – he's the ghost that teaches History, and has been stuck on the Goblin Wars and nothing else, since before I was a student. Dumbledore didn't have the heart to tell him to move on. We intend to invite him to stay on as a tutor, but scramble to find a substitute in the short amount of time we have left before the beginning of term. Unfortunately, as Binns hasn't taught a real class in decades, it's too late to alter the book list, they'll have no pre-existing syllabus to work from, and the class may be a bit rough – but you still will learn rather more than you would have from that ghost." He stopped for a moment, and they dutifully nodded, eyes perhaps a touch more excited than he would have expected.

"As for the source of our outside recommendations… Hopefully it isn't too close to the start of the year, but we are soliciting one advisor each from some of the other top schools around the world to come for a few weeks at some point throughout the year, and evaluate both our faculty and our curriculum. They will be provided a copy of current Ministry Standards, all the Statistics we have for our O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. pass rates, and things like that, and given leave to interview students, Faculty, sit in on classes – everything. Once they've turned in their observations and recommendations after the end of the year, the entire Combined Board, and the Entire Faculty will sit down with those observations and recommendations, and start to work on seeing what we would like to implement. As well as starting the process of finding a new Headmaster. I foresee a busy time of things for me next summer, which I am rather sorry for. Don't worry, though, busy as I am now, I haven't forgotten about the Montrose Home Game next weekend. I shan't be late." He drained the last of his Cognac, and dismissed the boys with a nod.

As they made their way over to the lunch planning, Draco couldn't help but wonder just exactly how huge of a tidal wave he had set in motion. All he had meant to do was start out in a position where he could befriend Harry, and suddenly Dumbledore – the only living wizard Voldemort had ever feared – was no longer going to be at Hogwarts. Not that he could blame them, what the man had done was abhorrent. Certainly he wasn't going to be asked to find a way to kill the old man anymore, but… this could pose so many new and unexpected problems. He should probably just throw the old timeline out the window, try to do more research, study hard, and play things by ear if he needed to. Who knew how many chain reactions he'd already set off in the last two weeks? Just as they reached the small gathering of people discussing what the ideal plan for lunch would be, Draco was struck by something that was missing. "Where's Uncle Severus?"

"I'd forgotten you were already upstairs," Narcissa said. "A note came for him from St. Mungo's. I think they want his help with something to do with the potions for your Uncle Sirius, he flooed out a while ago."

"They want a teacher to help at the Hospital?" Harry seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Uncle Severus doesn't just _teach_ Potions," said Draco. "He's a Potions _Master_. His Holidays are always filled with consults and private projects and all sorts of things. It comes with the Title."

"Oh. Well I'm glad your Godfather is helping take care of my Godfather, then."

Draco thought to himself that if Harry knew more of the history between the two men, he might not be quite so confident, but he had faith in his Godfather to rise above and be _professional_, at least.

**A/N:** Hopefully this is a bit more satisfactory than the last two chapters, which I'll admit ended rather on cliffs (and one of which was rather on the short side as well). Albus, Albus, Albus… why did you have to insist on testifying yourself? Rather hung himself there, as some of you noted.

As always, this Chapter would not be what it is without the tireless work of my Beta, Lupinefire.

Next week, well, that would be telling, wouldn't it? See you all next Thursday!

In the meantime, if you're of a Harry/Hermione sort, check this one out:  s/4605681/1/The-Real-Us it's an amusing ride.


	12. Not So Lazy Days

**A/N:** They aren't my toys, but I'll gladly play with them.

Chapter Twelve

_Not so Lazy Days_

The boys continued to spend most of their free time getting ahead in their school texts, floating aimlessly in the sand-bottomed pond, or wizzing about in the sky of the half-pitch. They didn't see much of Lucius, but Narcissa always seemed to know exactly the strategic moment to arrive suggesting a break, just before an elf bearing one snack or another popped in. Uncle Severus didn't seem to be around that often either – but it was getting near term, and he was no-doubt busy making last minute preparations for his incoming and returning students. He _was_ still available by owl, however, whenever they had a question about something in Harry's Beginner Potions Kit.

It was a warm Tuesday of the week they would be going to see the Montrose home game, when Severus found the two lazing about the pond. "Enjoying the weather, boys?" He asked as he approached.

"Uncle Severus," they exclaimed in near unison. This followed by Draco's query, "I thought you'd be up to your gills in school business by now?"

"Oh, I am," he answered, motioning them over to the shallow side of the pond. "But I've been send word that Lord Black –" he barely kept the scowl off his face as the words stuck in his throat – "has been cleared for visitors. They thought I might be the best choice of chaperone, as he's been asking for me as well."

"Brilliant! When do we leave," demanded Harry.

"Well," said Snape, a bit of his classroom tone creeping into his voice, "I _had_ thought you might want to be _fully_ dressed for the occasion…"

"Oh," said Harry, coloring slightly. "Right, then. We'll meet you back at the house. I mean, Draco is allowed to come, right?"

"If he chooses to, yes."

Harry turned his most pleading expression on his blond haired cousin. "Yes, of course I'm coming you barmy git." Harry took off for the Manor so quickly, he missed the next bit, about how Draco wouldn't miss seeing their two Godfathers forced to play nice with each other for anything. Secretly, though, Draco was a bit worried about how the afternoon would play out for Harry's sake if nothing else. He hurried along on his way after the messy-haired boy, intending to suggest that he bring along the box of games, in case Sirius had been starved for something fun to do.

MM

In short order, both youngsters were clean, freshly dressed in casual robes, and back in the foyer – Harry clutching the box of games and whatnot that Draco had given him for his birthday. Harry was obviously trying his best not to be impatient as Severus made a bit of small-talk with Narcissa. When Severus checked his watch against the hall clock, Harry surged as if unable to hold back his excitement. "All right, then. Harry – you've gotten a chance to travel by Portkey already, haven't you?"

"Er, Portkey, sir?"

Draco couldn't quite swallow a snicker – Harry hadn't done very well his first time with any form of magical travel thus far other than brooms, and he didn't imagine Portkey would bode any better for his cousin.

"Wonderful. Keep your knees slightly bent, and don't let go. We're being Portkeyed into the Secure Ward at Mungo's. Only way in for visitors. You'll just have to hope for the best. Now take hold of this bit of rope, both of you, we leave in just a moment."

Draco managed to catch sight of the look of shock on Harry's face as the familiar _hook behind the navel _feeling grabbed hold of all of them, and he was laughing as he landed hard on his knees in the visitors' arrival room of the secure ward. Harry, meanwhile, landed sprawled on the ground, somehow tangled up _in_ the rope they'd used. Severus soon righted him, and the three of them straightened themselves up a bit before the seemingly token adult knocked once, sharply, on the door that led out of the room.

When a short orderly appeared, Snape announced them as the expected party of three to visit Lord Black, and handed over the portkey rope as though it had done something offensive by entangling Harry. "Black, Black," the orderly muttered to himself for a moment. "Oh yes, party of either two or three, arriving now, undetermined duration of visit, visit to be supervised by patient's mind-healer. She's with him now – follow me, gentlemen. Keep well away from the doors, most of our patients are on their way _to_ Azkaban, not _from_."

They were led away from what they assumed was the central area where the arrival and departure rooms were housed, along with a staff station, and down a set of branching corridors, until they reached an exterior wall, with large windows that let in great pools of natural light. It was along one of these external walls that they finally approached a door which the orderly banged rather ill-temperedly on. "Party of three to see Lord Black," he announced, then wandered back down another hall.

Inside they could hear a calming voice raising a bit in volume. "Lord Black, this is a day we've worked toward. This is when you start making amends, and this is when you start rebuilding your family – both by choice and by blood. You can do this. You _can_ do this." A sigh of exasperation. "I'm letting them in now, and you've nowhere to run to. You are ready, I promise you."

Then the door swung open to reveal a rather plain yet calmingly featured witch, dressed in robes of a dark green tweed. "Good afternoon," she said pleasantly. "I'm Mind Healer Clayworth, assigned to Lord Black's case. We've been expecting you. Please do come in."

The three of them found themselves ushered into what seemed more like a small suite than a hospital room. It was, to be fair, mostly one room, but while the bed and apparent entry to the bathing area were tucked away in the corner, there was a small kitchenette and a cozy sitting area around a small fireplace.

From one of the overstuffed chairs near the fireplace came Sirius's voice, sounding clearer than it had at the hearing. "Welcome to my temporary Den," he said, with an uncertain chuckle in his voice. Draco thought he sounded incredibly nervous – though whether it was at having them there in particular, or at having visitors in general, he couldn't say.

Harry stepped forward, shifted his weight from foot to foot, and in a small voice offered his own greeting. "Good afternoon, Lord Black."

Sirius Black finally stood and turned to face them fully, a devastatingly crestfallen look on his face. "None of that Harry – please? I was always supposed to be Padfoot to you, like I was to your Mum and Dad, and to Moony – Great Merlin, Moony! I've got to find a way to let him know I'm out, that it wasn't me, that…" He sank back into his chair, a depressed and yet thoughtful look on his face – as if he were despairing, yet thinking at thousands of furlongs a minute.

After a brief moment – and a pointed look from his Mind Healer – he seemed to pull himself together a bit more, and perked up again. "Please, everyone, come in. Harry, Snape… and I hope I'm right in guessing this is our Cousin Draco?"

"Draco Malfoy, sir," Draco said. "You're correct."

"Please, I have so much to say to all of you, and I have no idea how to say even half of it. Come sit. If you'd like tea I can have it ready for you in no time. I'm not allowed my wand yet, but I've gotten used to doing that much the Muggle way."

Mind Healer Clayworth gave a slight shake of her head, and drew a deep breath. "Settle in and Focus, Sirius. One thing at a time. You have all afternoon if you pace yourself. And I'm certain this won't be your only chance at visitors. You're not the only fish out of water at the moment. Why don't we all have a seat and try to catch our breath together before we continue on. For the moment, I'll pop into the kitchen and handle the tea. I want no talking, and nothing but calm focus on our breathing as we get used to being in the same space until I bring the tray over."

Sedate as her tone was, it somehow brooked no argument. Draco, Harry and Severus found themselves arrayed around the low table at the fireplace – Severus seated as far away as he could comfortably be from Sirius at the moment – and silence reigned until the apparently formidable woman came bustling over with a simple but serviceable looking tea set arrayed on a plain tray. She sat it down on the table, and served everyone without asking. "Before the visiting Potions Master questions my intentions, yes, there is a mild calming draught in the brew – I thought it best to give everyone a bit of a leg up on keeping themselves centered in case we stray into stressful territory. Now start on your tea, please, before we begin properly."

She waited until they all had taken a few sips before she allowed a bit of relaxation to creep into her posture. "Much better. Now then, Sirius, if you'd order your thoughts for me the way we've spoken about, why don't you start with the things you had decided you ought to say today."

The Presumptive Lord Black shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as if a child taken to task for something and expected to offer a dissertation on his motives. He took a long drink of his tea, then cleared his throat with an ill-disguising cough. "Right. Well. I suppose I should start with the oldest issues first, then work my way forward. I realize you all will have things to say in response, but it'll be easier – that is to say, it'll be harder if I'm responding to you responding, and –"

"What have we gone over about stalling tactics, Sirius?"

"Snape – well, it's Professor Snape now, or do you prefer Master Snape? I owe you a schoolboy's lifetime of apologies. I was a right bastard when we were in school together. I couldn't see past the colors on our ties and crests. I was a bully. I was a petty tyrant. I took out my feelings of anger toward my family on you, and instead of recognizing I was wrong, I only escalated when you resisted my attempts to humiliate you. I owe you more in the way of apologies than I think I can ever make. I understand that by your connection to the Malfoys you're currently occupying an important role in my Godson's life. I… I…" He paused to clear his throat again, the words obviously coming with difficulty. "I won't pretend I'm ok with that, but I'm trying to be. It cuts that you're there when I can't be. It's hard to think of someone I always considered an enemy occupying part of what should be my place in Harry's life. But I know I should be grateful to you for being there, especially after everything James and I put you through. I know that in a big way it's our fault that your friendship with Lily was strained to the breaking point. I just… It's hard for me to accept it, but I'm grateful that Harry has someone in his life right now that can tell him as much about Lily as I'll be able to tell him about James. I don't like you – I'm still too hung up on what I remember. It's going to take me a long time. But I promise to try to learn to like you. Or at least get along with you. I know you're willing to at least try to get along with me, or you wouldn't have come here today. And… And as sorry as I am, I'm grateful for that. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, especially after the stunt I pulled with Lupin. Nobody should've been subjected to that. I could've gotten you _and_ one of my best friends killed. I… damnit, I'm trying Snape. Just… just see that I'm trying, and don't make it hard on the Pup that you hate his Godfather with good reason. That's between us, and it shouldn't land fallout on him – it was before his time. If you got over your hatred of James enough to see past it to work with Harry… I just hope you can do the same with me."

Sirius hung his head, breathing as hard as if he'd just been running for his life from a nesting Dragon. He slugged back the rest of his cup of tea. When he raised his head, the unshed tears of frustration and pent up emotion were clearly shining in his eyes. A quick glance at Severus revealed that Draco's Godfather was, if not unmoved, then being very cautious in his contemplation of what had been said. After a long silence, Severus spoke in a quiet voice. "As you say – our past dealings should not be allowed to negatively impact Harry." Sirius looked almost ready to sob with relief – it was clear that he still had almost no control over his emotions. Draco mused that it really wasn't surprising after 10 years of constant exposure to the Dementors.

"Not quite how we had rehearsed," said Mind Healer Clayworth, "but a good start. Whom do you wish to address next?"

Sirius turned his head slightly, allowing his attention to fall onto Draco. "Draco… I don't know you. You spring from a part of the family I would've happily been prepared to dislike to the point of hatred if things had started out differently. But from what I understand you've already been a good friend to my Godson. You found him – you've helped him. I can only apologize for what would have been my first reaction to your name, and thank you for what you've already done, and what you seem prepared to continue to do. You're a credit to the bright threads that crop up from time to time in the Black Line, and I can only be eternally grateful to you. I hope to get to know you better in the future, and that Harry's friendship with you will continue to be as great an asset as it appears to have been so far."

"Better, Sirius, better," soothed the Mind Healer, as though sensing the truly difficult part was actually yet to come. Everyone took the moment to drink more of the drugged tea, uncertain what would come to pass in the last round of things to be said.

Sirius took a very deep breath, one that sounded as though it was failing to steady him. "Pup… Harry…" There was a definite hitch in his voice, and Draco knew that at any moment the damn would break, and they'd be faced with a much more emotional Lord Black than they had thus far.

"It's all my fault your life has been what it was. I was supposed to be there for you – be a proper Godfather. The first… now the only pup of our little pack. I… I failed your parents…" He choked on a sob that nearly escaped fully from his throat. "I failed you. I wasn't there to keep an eye on you, to raise you up the way your parents would have wanted." This time the half-choked sob was able to escape in a strange strangled sound, as though Sirius was literally stopped in his tracks by unchecked emotions. "There's so much I would have wanted for you before now… All I can do is promise I'll do my best to get out of this place, and then we can go from there – go forward the way we should've been. I can never replace your Dad and Mum, but I promise I will do everything I can to be the Godfather they would want me to be for you. You probably already know – somebody told me part of my Will was read into evidence – that I've made you presumptive heir to the Black Line. In the very unlikely event that I ever have a male child of my own, that may change, but you will still inherit a fair share of all that is good and right in the House of Black, hidden though it often may seem." His voice hitched into another short sob. "I did so much wrong, but I'm doing all I can to get to a place where I can right as much of that as I can. I know you won't be able to visit much once term starts, but I'd like it if you felt enough kindness and kinship for me to write once in a while. And I'll be having regular visits with your Aunt Cissa and Aunt Andi to keep up on how you're doing. There's so much I missed, so much I did wrong. I should have at least called for backup that night when I went after Peter. I've written to the Goblins at Gringotts now that my accounts are able to be unfrozen, and one of the things I've had them do is transfer from my vault the amount of money I would have been putting into you trust vault yearly if I hadn't bloody well ruined everything by running off without thinking. There's a few things of your Mum and Dad's that I had for safekeeping while you three were in hiding – those have been moved into your Trust Vault too. So if you get a chance, go at least look those things over. You're going to want to look into the things your Mum left in the Evans Vault for you as well, and if you have access to it, the Heirloom Vault. And… I'm rambling, aren't I? I used to ramble when I was nervous, I suppose I still do. I'll… I'll just be quiet now…"

As Sirius's voice died away, Harry did something no one could have expected. He stood up, and went over to Sirius and leaned down to give the man a firm, supporting hug. It endured for a long few moments, and when he finally pulled away, both their eyes were glistening with tears. "I… I brought…" Harry began, his voice faltering a bit. "I brought some games with me, in case you wanted something fun to do while we're here? D'you like Exploding Snap?"

The still slightly shaggy-haired former prisoner smiled with a wide grin. "I'd love to play some games with you. How many decks do you have? Can we all play? Well, if Master Snape wouldn't mind joining in so he won't just be sitting there bored."

Severus seemed to pause in deep contemplation before giving a short nod. "I will play, perhaps no more than one game, but in the spirit of this meeting, I will play."

So Harry and Draco dug out a few decks, and began shuffling them together. The Men retained their chairs on either end of the table, and the boys both took seats on the floor on either side. In short order, the opening hands had been dealt, and the game begun. It didn't take long before the first controlled explosion. Severus and Sirius may have been almost equally out of practice, but Sirius's fine motor skills were just starting to come back after his imprisonment. Eventually, they had to stop because they had run out of cards. No one was feeling brave enough to comment on the fact that Severus had played through to the end, rather than the _one game_ he had implied was all he'd be in for.

They were just starting to decide what was next on the agenda, when the Mind Healer stepped back in from where she'd been sitting in the kitchen. "I know you gentlemen are all feeling good, and that's why I want to end this visit here – on a good note. We'll try to arrange another visit this weekend, before you boys head off to school. But for now, I recommend the visit be ended while everyone is still relatively happy with everyone else. Sirius, if you'll wait by the fire, I'll be back so we can talk through the visit after I escort your visitors to their departure point. For now, let's say our goodbyes."

Reluctantly, Sirius nodded. He hugged Harry tight, whispering something in his ear no one else managed to catch. He shook hands with Draco, and wished him well. Then he stared at Snape awkwardly for a moment before sticking out his hand. "First step?"

"First step," agreed Severus, sounding a bit less like he was fighting the impulse to say something else than he had when Sirius had first addressed him upon their arrival. Then Mind Healer Clayworth was ushering the three visitors out the door.

As she led them back in the general direction from which they had come, she kept a running dialogue. "I want to thank you all for your patience today. He's been terrified about what to say, especially to you, Master Snape, and agonizing about whether he'd be able to keep it together talking to you, Harry. The game was a nice idea, it allowed everyone to socialize with a handy distraction in front of them. He's already making good progress – the nightmares are starting to decrease a bit in frequency, if not in intensity. And he's doing much better keeping his concentration and coherency for longer stretches of time. That's the other reason I cut your visit short – I didn't want him slipping into an incoherent state before you'd left. That would have set back his emotional progress, and made for a sour note to end a visit on." She led them around another corner, and they came back out on the other side of what they assumed was a Nurse's Station of some sort or another. Through that door is a room you can apparate out from. You won't be able to get back in that way – I'm afraid portkey is the only way in. When we arrange another visit – if we can – then you'll be sent another single-use portkey. Have a splendid day, gentlemen. And thank you for being so kind to Sirius." She turned and left them in front of the door marked _Departure Room_.

"Well," commented Severus dryly. "I expect that's our cue to exit." He opened the door, and motioned for the two boys to precede him into the room. Taking each by the hand, he side-alonged them to Diagon Alley.

"Uncle Severus," Draco asked in mild confusion, "Why are we here?"

"No time like the present to visit the Goblins again. I'm sure Harry's been wanting to see the things stored for him – there might be a thing or two that he will want to take with him, beyond all the things that he'll want to leave in storage until he's grown."

The two boys nodded in understanding, and the seemingly mismatched group made their way down the Alley to the Bank. When they got inside, Harry didn't see "his" Goblin anywhere, so he stood in the shortest queue and when it was his turn, he gave a polite half-bow and asked, "Is Mr. Griphook working today? I need to take care of some things about my account."

The Goblin scowled, and seemed on the verge of making a scathing remark, when he looked up and actually noticed who had spoken, and further noticed that the youngster was still in his half-bow, waiting to be acknowledged.

"Young Master Potter, I presume?" Harry answered with a nod. "If you go down that hallway," here the goblin pointed distinctly, to ensure no confusion, "you will find a door on the left hand side that says _Potter Accounts_. I'm not certain if it is Griphook or Boneblade that is in the office today, or if both are here, but someone will be in that office to handle your business."

"Thank you," he started to turn, then stopped and turned back. "How do you say _thank you_ in your language?"

The goblin chuckled – a harsh, raspy sound. "You would find it hard to pronounce without a great deal of practice. But the phrase can be loosely translated as _May your fortunes rise as much as you have aided me."_

"And what was your name?"

"Grimmaw."

"May your fortunes rise as much as you have aided me, Grimmaw."

"May we see both our fortunes rise thus, Master Potter." And as Harry walked away, Grimmaw greeted the next customer with an uncharacteristic smile.

Harry made his way back over to the entrance to collect Draco and Severus. "OK, I know where we have to go now." Smiling to himself, he made his way into the corridors of the bank, following the directions Grimmaw had given him. When they arrived, Harry made a tentative knock on the door.

"Unless you're Mr. Potter himself, this had better be important," bellowed a voice from inside.

Harry cracked the door open. "Actually it is me. Good afternoon, Griphook."

"Come in, Master Potter. I'm sorry to have shouted. I'm just wondering how Account Goblins can get anything done with all the interruptions from other departments. I'll admit they have me a bit frazzled today, although the reports from the Black Family Accounts office have been quite profitable for you."

"So we have heard," came Severus's smooth baritone.

"And you are," asked Griphook suspiciously.

"Potions Master Severus Snape, Draco's Godfather, and a friend of Mr. Potter's."

"So long as he's alright with you being here. It's up to him if he wants you to take the binding oath.

"I don't think he needs to – at least for what I want today." Harry couldn't help but fidget a bit as he said this.

"Ah, and what business is it that brings you to Gringotts today, Young Master Potter?"

"I was hoping to go down to my Trust Vault to see the things Sirius had transferred over for me, and then to visit the Evans Vault to see what my Mum and Dad left for me until I can access the main Heirloom vault. If I could, please?"

Griphook leveled a serious look at Harry. "In the future, if you merely wish to visit one of the vaults you have access to, you can use one of the lower level Goblins out front. You needn't come back to this office unless you have more complicated matters to attend to."

Harry looked momentarily crestfallen, but perked up at Griphook's next words. "However, I could use a break, and so I will gladly take you down to those vaults myself."

Smiling as they filed out of the office, Harry couldn't stop himself from asking a question. "Do you like working in the office instead of out in the front?"

"I find it very much to my liking. I appreciate you placing this opportunity for advancement in my path."

What was it the other goblin had said in response to a thank you… Harry had it after a moment of contemplation. "May we see both our fortunes rise thus, Griphook."

If Griphook was startled at the use of goblin phrasing, he did not show it as he ushered them into one of the carts that headed down into the vaults. "Trust Vault first," he said. "It's a bit deeper than the Evans Vault, as the Potters tend to pass the Vault down from Father to Firstborn Son." And away they zipped – the boys practically laughing with glee, and the Potions Master struggling to keep too much of a smile from appearing on his own face.

MM

In the Trust Vault, Harry immediately commented out loud that the volume of gold seemed to have doubled. He asked no one in particular, "How much did Sirius _give_ me?"

"Were we back in my office, I could give you an exact answer," said Griphook.

"You must remember," Severus added in his silky tone, "The Blacks are just as Ancient and Noble a House as the Potters. No doubt he was taking one of the few steps he could in his current situation to start setting right what he feels was a great wrong to you."

Harry's reaction was lost, though, as he was already making his way over to a small cleared area, where some non-monetary items were set up. Draco trailed after him – just as curious to see what would be there. The first thing Harry keyed in on was a somewhat small, beautifully carved stone box, with the words _For Harry, Just In Case_ engraved on the top.

Just that simple piece of concrete proof that his parents had loved him enough to prepare for the possibility of their deaths was enough to make Harry start to quiver and shake. "Uncle Severus," Harry called. "Could you shrink this box down enough that we could bring it with us?"

"Of course," he said, choosing to ignore the plight of the boy valiantly trying to keep control of his emotions.

The majority of the other items turned out to be portraits, furniture, and other things that it would be – if nothing else – highly impractical for Harry to think of taking. But on a small bookshelf he found three books to add to the pile, they appeared to be journals both his mother and father had kept their first year of Hogwarts, and an even greater treasure, The Potter Book Of Shadows. Part family history, part Grimmorie, it looked like a fascinating book to read through. The books were swiftly added to the Stone box in Severus's pocket.

Looking around the objects strewn around him, Harry noticed a matched pair of dagger-sized blades – one straight bladed, one curved, and was for some reason compelled to take those as well. Finally, he turned to look at Griphook and the others – handing the blades in their sheathes to Severus to add to the pile. "I think," he said in an uncertain voice, "I think I'm done here. Can we go to the Evans Vault now?"

"Of course," said Griphook with a slight bow. "If you'll all carefully follow me back to the cart."

One – short – exciting ride later, they arrived at a newer, and seemingly smaller vault. When Griphook had opened the door, they could see a much smaller, but still respectable pile of gold as they stepped through into the vault. The few items seemed mostly to be more furniture, and a smattering of jewelry, the only thing that caught Harry's eye was a wooden box the size of a small trunk that read across the top _For Harry's 11__th__ Birthday_. Eyes suspiciously moist, the boy presented the treasure to Severus to add the small selection of items they already had. "I… I think I'm done here too. I'm not up to sorting through all these things just now," Harry admitted.

"No trouble to get you back up to the lobby," said Griphook with a smile full of teeth. "Everyone come along then." And another dizzying ride up the cart system had them – as promised – back to the Lobby Level.

Temporarily forgetting the small bit of Goblin etiquette he had learned, Harry settled for thanking Griphook profusely as they parted ways in the main lobby of the bank. He'd nearly tripped over his tongue by the time Severus and Draco were able to pull him away.

MM

When they appeared back on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, Severus quietly followed Harry up to 'his' room, and re-enlarged everything he'd shrunk for easy carrying, settling the items in the corner of the room as directed by Harry. Then he excused himself, stating that he should really say a few words to Narcissa (and Lucius if he was home) before returning to Hogwarts.

The boys were left alone in the room, and Draco could've sworn he could hear Harry's heart trying to leap out of his chest. He placed the books on his cousin's nightstand for the moment, then asked in a hushed voice, "Just In Case box, or Birthday box first?"

Harry had to swallow hard twice just to get any words out. "Just In Case," he said. "In theory it's more recent."

Draco nodded and carefully hefted the stone box over to the bed. After a quick look of communication between the two of them, Draco gently removed the lid, and set it to the side. Within the box, there appeared to be a small variety of objects, but on top was a sealed envelope addressed to Harry.

Harry gestured helplessly to the envelope. "Draco, I don't think I can… that is… could you… could you read it to me?"

Draco gave another nod, and gingerly lifted the envelope, doing his best to pull the wax seal without damaging it. "It's in two different handwritings," he said. "I think your Mum and Dad both wrote this for you together. Shall I read it now?"

Harry gave a helpless sort of nod, and so Draco began to read.

"_**Harry,**_

_** If you are reading this, then the worst has happened, but somehow you survived. For that alone we are grateful. If he stuck to the plan, Padfoot should have given you this box on your 11**__**th**__** birthday. You're getting ready to head off to Hogwarts and begin the great adventure that is your full education as a wizard – not that living with Padfoot will have been anything less than an adventure. That also means it's time for you to have a few things that have been passed down through the family, and a bit of advice."**_

"It looks like your Mum took over for the next bit," explained Draco.

_"If you haven't already, you should take the Potter Book of Shadows and start looking through it when you have time. The simplest rituals don't require much, we have left you a platinum Athame and Boline – take care of them. Much of the traditional Potter Family Magics are ritual-based. With that, you should have either found or been given a copy of each of our Journals from our first year at Hogwarts. If you have time to read either of them, they might provide an idea of what school will be like for you. I am so sorry that we aren't there to prepare you in person."_

"Back to your Dad."

_**"Hopefully you have, in fact, grown up with Padfoot, and not elsewhere, but if you have not, you need to know that our Secret-Keeper, who was apparently untrustworthy, was a man named Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail. Know that your 'Uncle Padfoot' is a good man, and if you can get to him, do so. Also try to get in touch with your 'Uncle Moony," he was another of our best friends – both your mother's and mine – at school and after, and if he doesn't know you're ok, some part of him will always be half-mad with worry. His furry little problem has side effects like that sometimes. It's just part of who he is."**_

"I wonder what a _furry little problem_ is? Anyway, your mother writing again."

"_Within this box, you will find an amulet I crafted myself to help protect you from bodily harm, your Heir's Ring, should have been given to you by the Goblins, specifically the current Account Manager of the Potter family; it has its own layers of protections layered into it, and you can find out more by reading the Book of Shadows. There is also a cloak clasp I gave to your father while we were in school, the pocket-watch your father received from your grandfather when he turned 17, and the locket your Grandparents gave to me upon my graduation from Hogwarts. It too has a charm - a simple one, but comforting; when the weather is warm, it will generate a low level cooling charm around you, when it is cold, a mild warming charm. There is also a selection of snapshots you may not have seen before, of your father and I, and of the whole group. Perhaps more important are several books – __Uncommon Curses and their Counters__, __Emergency Medical Charms for the Common Wizard__, and a book detailing some of the regular exercises that Aurors do to keep their reflexes and bodies strong and sharp. Don't ask where it came from – I don't want to know how your father got a copy away from the Academy."_

_** "Seriously son, don't let anyone know about that book. Even trainees aren't usually allowed to keep copies once they've committed the exercises to memory. I leave you the pocket-watch my father gave me as a coming-of-age gift as a tie and reminder of the proud lineage you come from. It is a time honoured tradition in the Wizarding world that on a young wizard's 17**__**th**__** birthday, they are gifted a pocket-watch, usually by their father, but sometimes by another elder male relative. Mine not only tells the time and moon phase, and has a handy flying compass, but if you reverse the face by pressing the top knob of the watch housing, you'll find a miniature version of a family clock. If you sift through this box, you'll find the original instruction booklet, which will explain how to use the family clock. Take your studies at school seriously, son. But don't forget to have plenty of fun – you're still growing up, and you deserve it. And also be careful – it's possible that the Dark Lord, or at least his followers – might still be around making trouble, and if you survived when we did not, you may be something of a target, I can't be certain, since I cannot know now how things will play out. You'll do Gryffindor proud, son."**_

___"I told your father not to bring Houses into this – you'll do whichever house you're sorted into proud – even Slytherin. Not all Slytherins are evil, remember that. That house prizes ambition, not darkness, and it's entirely possible to be ambitious for positive goals or reasons. I had a friend once in Slytherin. He was very misunderstood, and it's always pained me that we were never able to reconcile the argument that ended our friendship. Don't let pride or hasty words get in the way of friendships you value. Make friends – from all houses if you can. Learn, learn, learn – that's what school is there for, as much as for growing and fun."_

_**"Always know, Harry, that wherever we are, we are still doing our best to look out for you. You are our pride and our joy, our promise of and to the future. You are the next Lord Potter, and it is up to you to chart your own path."**_

___"We love you with all our hearts, Harry, every fiber of our being. You are a child of love, and I hope you've been raised to know something like the love we have for you. Love is its own magic, Harry. It is often the answer, and usually the key. Now go and open your birthday box, we've been planning for your 11__th__ birthday since we knew you would be coming along into the world. (And the only way I was able to talk your father out of a broom was by pointing out new models would be on the market by the time you turned 11.) We wish you could be there with you Harry, we wish we wouldn't have missed any birthdays, any milestones as you grew._

_**All Our Love,**_

_Mum & Dad"_

As Draco finished reading, he refused to acknowledge that his eyes were as glassy with unshed tears as Harry's were. Both hastily scrubbed their faces with their sleeves, then Draco carefully refolded the letter and put it back into the envelope it had come in. "Well Harry," he said, "D'you want to open your birthday presents from your Mum and Dad now?" His voice had come out a bit wobbly, but neither of them cared in that moment.

Harry gave a nod, his still-moist eyes taking in the large wooden box. On shaky legs, he made his way over to it, and pulled open the lid. Inside he found a collection of brightly wrapped gifts, all just waiting for him to open them. Draco could hardly imagine what Harry was feeling – he himself was experiencing a strange mix of excitement and sadness. Part of him wondered if he ought to leave Harry to it, but a louder voice told him his friend might need support, and he resolved not to leave unless asked to.

The first gift Harry unwrapped was a leather-bound journal with his initials embossed on the lower right hand corner of the cover. The spine read _Year One_. Apparently, his parents intended he follow their example and keep a journal, at least of his first year. Next was another book, this one entitled First Steps for Self Transformation, A Meditation Guide to Finding Your Inner Animal. A note in his father's handwriting was slipped into the front cover that simply said: _When you're ready, and have a good grasp of transfiguration_. The third and seemingly final literary present turned out to be Ritual Magic for Beginners_,_ and included a note from his mother explaining that it would help him learn some of the oldest Potter Magics when he was ready.

In the next layer down, he found a small cylindrical package that turned out to be a seal-stamp with the Potter Crest on it. Nearby was a block of sealing wax. There was a box of Chocolate Frogs that appeared to have been spelled to stay fresh. And a box containing (what they both assumed was) James's Famous Wizard Cards collection – apparently it was a hobby he had intended to share with his son. There were also two decks of muggle playing cards, along with a book explaining the rules of many common card games, and a copy of the muggle board game Risk.

Further in, Harry discovered a packet of baby pictures of himself with Neville, and with a boy he'd never met before named Ron. There were also various pictures of him with his parents, and oddly enough one where he was perched atop the back of a black dog, and one where he was being steadied astride an impressive stag. Harry puzzled over those two until Draco had a thought, "If the friend that betrayed them was secretly an Animagus – that's a wizard or witch who can turn into an animal – then maybe your dad and his other friends were too?"

"Maybe," agreed Harry, as he reached for the next package. That parcel turned out to be a wizarding chess set that appeared to be well worn, and well loved; the note with it explained that it had been in the Potter family for years, and advised him to get a little experience in playing chess before trying to play those chessmen, as they tended to be grumpy when not used well. The next was a pennant with the Hogwarts School Crest emblazoned proudly upon it. Harry seemed to have hit bottom, but then he looked in the box, and noticed two smaller boxes inside it. With help from Draco, he hefted the first out onto the floor. Upon opening the box, it was revealed to be a complete Quidditch set, including all the balls, two beater bats, and in addition to the regular snitch, a training one as well.

"Wow," breathed Draco.

"Yeah," echoed Harry. "Wow."

Next to the Quidditch set, was the last item, this one somewhat smaller. It was of a dark finished wood, and at first Draco almost did a double-take, thinking it was a larger version of the Mulligan's kit. Instead the top read _Marauders Second Generation Induction Kit_ in ever changing colors. Inside were a variety of prank products (that seemed to have been chosen for their stability in storage), a small booklet with the words _Fun at Hogwarts_ scrawled on it, another Journal of some sort, what appeared to be a folded up piece of blank parchment, and another hand-written booklet labeled Marauder's Map Mark 2.

Dipsy chose that moment to pop in. "Young Masters is to be coming down for dinner shortly."

"Thank you Dipsy," said Draco. As she popped out again, he turned to Harry. "Do you want help putting all this away?"

"No… I think I've got it…" said Harry faintly. "Go ahead and get ready for dinner. I'll be along."

**A/N: **And Harry is finally done getting birthday presents! Hope you all enjoyed the first of the longer chapters.

Want to take a moment to thank everyone who reviews, and comment that if you are not signed in, I can't respond to your review – I got a great unsigned review recently and couldn't PM a response. Bummed me out.

As always, this chapter wouldn't be what it is without the help of my wonderful beta Lupinefire. Also, as always, I welcome your constructive criticism.

Credit in this chapter goes to both Theta-McBride and Lupinefire for suggestions of things to be included in the second-generation Marauder's Kit. It will be making a return appearance in the future.

See you all next Thursday!


	13. Musings and Owl Post

**A/N: **It's such a nice playset… even if it isn't mine, I wouldn't want to leave it on the shelf gathering dust when I could be playing with it!

**Emergency A/N: **I am so sorry it's nearly Friday! You can all thank Lupinefire for asking me if I'd posted my chapter yet. I've had a bit of a bad health day, and had actually forgotten it was Thursday.

Chapter Thirteen

_Musings and Owl Post_

It was Wednesday morning when Harry received his first ever personal owl – he didn't consider the Hogwarts acceptance letter personal, but more life-changing. He and Draco had just finished breakfast with Lucius and Narcissa, and were heading out into the back garden, when a mid-sized tawny owl descended from the sky and lit gently upon Harry's shoulder. "Who's it from," asked Draco.

Accepting the letter, and observing the way Draco retrieved a few owl treats from a canister near the door and gave them to the bird, who seemed content to remain on Harry's shoulder while it ate. "I bet it's from Neville," Harry said after thinking for a moment. "I forgot I was going to owl him, so he's beaten me to it."

"Well open it up, it looks like his owl is waiting for a reply."

"Oh. Right."

Draco took no efforts to conceal his reading over Harry's shoulder, curious what the other boy had to say to his cousin.

_Dear Harry,_

_ Sorry I didn't owl sooner, but it's been busy around here. I guess you've been busy too. My Gran says that once you've started school, this time of year is always busy until you've seen your last leaving feast. I'm nervous about what House I'll be sorted into, Gran is practically shouting Gryffindor from the rafters, because she wants me to take after my Dad – and Mum – but I think it'd break her heart if I end up in Hufflepuff. Not that there's anything wrong with 'Puffs, it would just disappoint her so much. Have you given much thought to where you think you'll be sorted? I remember Draco Malfoy saying something about you guys going to a Montrose home game before we all head off to school – I hope you have a great time; I've never been to a pro game, but Gran took me to an exhibition match once, and it was great! Montrose is a pretty good team, and I think I remember Gran saying that Mr. Malfoy is one of the team's owners, so I bet you'll get pretty good seats as well. _

_I'm still not sure how I feel about you living with the Malfoys, to be honest. I was always told they were a dark family. But since the Tonks' are taking care of you too, maybe it's all right. They're pretty light. I mean, Mrs. Tonks is a Healer – how much more light can you get than devoting your life to helping people, right?_

_Anyway, like I said, have a great time at the game, and if we don't have much chance to correspond before the train, hopefully I'll see you then. Have a good day!_

_-Your Godbrother,_

_Neville Longbottom_

Harry looked up at the owl, "You can fly back to the Longbottoms if you want. I'll send my reply with my owl Hedwig." Then he looked over at Draco. "What do you think the chances are of your Dad being able to get another ticket to the game, so maybe Neville could go too?"

"I can go ask him, if you want. I don't think he's left for the day yet."

"OK. I'm going to go down and do some flying – I'll owl Neville back when we know what your Dad thinks!" And Harry took off for the half-pitch like he was a snitch himself, hurtling along at a high rate of speed.

MM

Before going to find his Father, Draco took a quick detour into his Mother's Rose Garden. It was one of the first real moments of quiet he'd given himself to consider things, since putting everything into motion with the Mulligan's kit. He supposed in an abstract sort of way, that he had a lot of things to think over.

The most immediate thing, was his relationship and friendship to Harry. He knew it didn't make sense that Harry would be all that different this time around – after all, he hadn't had any contact with anyone Harry would have associated with before he'd met him himself at Madam Malkin's. So why was the friendship so easy? Was it his bonus years of perspective on things? His desperation to find a solution to his one-time future problems – surely now there was no way he'd be charged with killing Dumbledore, since the Headmaster had been removed from his position at the school – was that driving things?

Or was it actually possible that, if he'd had and kept more of an open mind when they'd first met, he and Harry would actually have been friends in the first place? Could it have been him occupying the positions of the Weasel and Granger?

Then there was a question of what his pre-existing friends (and assumed upcoming housemates) would think about his friendship with Harry – and it was always Harry now, he couldn't think of him as just 'Potter' anymore. Would he be shunned by those who were also from traditionally Dark families, those he'd once considered allies and in rare cases actual friends? Or would they view it as a stroke of brilliant politics, befriending the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Hate-That-Title before school had even begun, thus ensuring he had the ear of the so-called Chosen One? There was no way to tell – perhaps he should write a few of his friends who he knew would end up in Slytherin and solicit reactions before the train came for them all on Sunday morning?

And of course, there was the puzzle of his Father. He still didn't understand why the man was going along with everything so well – did he have similar aims as Draco, now that the opportunity had presented itself? Certainly he couldn't know for truth that the Dark Lord would rise again, but he could perhaps suspect such a thing was possible. Or did he only focus on the short-term peace with his Wife and Son, holding out his opinions until they saw where everything was going? He wished he could tell his Father everything – his Mother too – and get their reactions. But they'd likely think he'd gone round the bend.

Merlin! It was all just such a mess. He had set out with what he thought was a simple goal – keep from being under the Dark Lord's thumb after he'd risen again – and instead he found himself about to ask if Neville Longbottom could accompany them to the traditional Montrose home-field match.

Not to mention the fact that, while he was still retaining a clear picture of his once-future, and the goals he'd come back to try to obtain, he found himself feeling more and more like an eleven-year-old faced with insurmountable odds. It was as though his prior experiences were no longer lending him any faith in his capacity to move forward.

After stalking about the roses for a bit, he finally came to a rather unsatisfying conclusion. The best course of action for the moment seemed to be to go with the flow, see how things could have started out different, and watch for any rapids or rocks downstream. At least so far it was a fun ride, if an uncertain one. Turning back towards the house, he finally went to track his Father down.

MM

Draco entered his Father's study with a quiet knock. "Father? Do you have a moment?"

Lucius sat back in his chair, stretching away from whatever it was he had been writing. "Not much more, I'm afraid. But I'll be glad of a moment's distraction. What brings you to my study, Draco?"

"I'm not even sure how to ask. But Harry has a request, and I told him I had to ask you about it first, before he could act on his end of things."

"Go on." Lucius looked interested now – up until this point, Harry had made no requests of his newly acquired family members.

"He wants to know if it's possible to invite Neville Longbottom along to the Montrose game. As I said, I told him we'd have to ask you first…"

"Additional tickets shouldn't be a problem – a few of the other owners owe me some favors. But if I were Harry, I'd ask Nymphadora along first. Madam Longbottom will likely be more comfortable with the idea if the Tonks' are represented as well. We may as well make a family outing of it – we are all supposed to be helping him together, after all. So you've a bit of homework before you can invite him along, but provided his Grandmother is agreeable, I don't see the problem."

Draco couldn't help but smile. Leave it to his Father to have not only the immediate solution, but the more removed, political solution as well. If only he'd been paying better attention to those skills the first time he was eleven, instead of merely absorbing the arrogance that comes from money and prestige, perhaps he would have been better ready to make allies of more value than the ones he'd had the first time around. "Thank you Father. I'll let Harry know, and I'll leave you to your work now."

"You're entirely welcome, Draco. It's a fine idea – if nothing else, it should serve as a public statement that we are not trying to turn the Chosen One Dark – which I have little doubt many assume is our aim."

Draco let himself out of the study, and after gently closing the door behind him, went back off in search of his cousin. It was still a novelty, thinking of Harry as his cousin, distant or not. And if he was completely honest with himself, it was rather a nice thing. Discovering two cousins – and now having interactions with them both – was, again if he were honest, a warm sort of feeling. Especially as his Mum had trained into him from such an early age the importance of family. It went entirely beyond the attitude of "do you know who my Father is" that he'd espoused so frequently the first time around.

MM

After failing to find Harry on the Pitch, he headed back inside. As he now expected, Draco found Harry in his room, practically pacing with excitement over the idea he'd had. When Draco stepped through the door, he was immediately pelted with questions. "How'd it go? Is your Dad OK with it? Can he get another ticket?"

"Not one, two. He says we should invite Cousin Tonks first – if she's going along too, Neville's Gran will be more likely to let him come with us."

"That… OK, that doesn't really make sense, honestly. Why wouldn't Madam Longbottom let Neville come along with just us?"

"As far as I know, she doesn't trust us. You've got to understand, Harry…" He paused, looking at Harry's open face that was waiting for an answer, and suddenly the words caught in his throat. How to tell your cousin, your newly discovered distant relation, _and_ new friend, that in the last war your own family line was dedicated on the side of the maniac who had killed his parents? Suddenly Draco felt very much in over his head. Did he lie, knowing the truth would come out eventually? Did he tell the truth and ruin Harry's excitement?

"What? What is there to understand? Why wouldn't Neville's Grandmother trust us?"

Without thinking, a half-answer – and full truth – came unbidden to Draco's lips. "I'm fairly certain she trusts _you_, Harry. It's the Family Malfoy she doesn't care for."

"But why?"

Draco took an extremely short moment to appreciate that – while it was only to someone his own age – Harry had reached a point where he was comfortable questioning things, rather than meekly accepting the way they were. "You're backing me out onto a limb here Harry. If I try to explain, will you try to keep from making a snap-judgment about it – at least until I've finished?"

Harry nodded, something on his face betraying a sudden wariness. Draco, in his past life, had almost relished that look. Now it terrified him. He realized that if he didn't tread carefully, everything he had wanted to accomplish could very well be destroyed.

"Alright. So this is how I understand it – remember, I wasn't there for most of it. As far as I know, my Mum was never on board, and I don't know how much my Father was really involved. All I really know is that my Grandfather… my Grandfather-was-sort-of-on-the-Dark-Lord's-side-du ring-the-last-war. That sort of dragged my Father into things. Like I said, I don't know that Mum was really involved at all. And the only parts I was around for I was so little I can't even remember anything, certainly nothing in detail what was going on. I don't know what our Family's reputation was before that – probably not great, given that the majority of the Black family was never too great, according to Mum, and Father having married her. But I know that now no one will believe that my Father wasn't a completely willing and eager participant, and I know that now no one trusts us. They hear the name Malfoy and just assume it means Dark Wizard. So those that consider themselves the Light side, like the Longbottoms, and actually the Tonks' as well – though they're not a very established family, and Aunt Andi is Mum's sister – they won't see past what they're prepared to believe, really. And you probably hate me now, and my parents, and would rather find out as soon as you can about moving in with the Tonks, and I'm sorry I hadn't said anything yet, but I didn't know how to break it to you – you're seen as the ultimate bastion of the Light, and here you are, living with a Dark Family." Draco took a huge breath in, and kept his eyes trained on the floor. There it was, his having screwed up everything again, so soon after seemingly setting things on a better path.

"Oh," said Harry. "My Aunt and Uncle made everybody believe I was a little liar, a cheat, and a thief. I guess I know what it's like when people don't bother to get to know you before believing what they've been told." Draco heard a rustle as Harry moved, seemingly over to the desk. "So we just have to convince Cousin Dora that she has to come with us before we can invite Neville."

Draco's jaw felt as though it was going to hit the floor. Where was the Righteous Anger? The Fireworks? The Tears, even? How could Harry just quietly accept that explanation, and not fly into some sort of hurt rage that Draco's Father had followed the Wizard who had destroyed his family?

Draco was more confused than ever. He hadn't just ruined his plans, but why? He found himself afraid to ask. Hesitantly he opened his eyes to see Harry sitting at the writing desk, drafting a letter – presumably to their cousin Nymphadora.

As Draco stood there thinking to himself, in no time at all Harry had finished his letter. "What do you think Draco, is this good enough?" Harry was holding out the letter as though it were a great triumph.

Draco took the letter, and scanned through the hastily written missive. "It looks alright to me mate, but you'd better get it sent off quick if you don't want Neville to be waiting too long."

Harry stood up so quickly he almost overturned the chair he'd been sitting in. Without another word to Draco he clambered off down the hallway, presumably to send his letter. Draco sat down on the foot of Harry's bed, letting his eyes roam over the things they've collected from the vaults just yesterday. In a way he felt very flattered that Harry had shared their contents with him. If he was the orphan, and Harry the child of privilege, he wasn't certain he would've been so open with the things he'd received. Then again, Harry seemed so pleased to have new relatives – especially ones that weren't outright jerks – that he was eager to share everything he had. It seemed as though that really showed the difference in people, but in truth Draco knew there was no way to tell how he would be if he were the one who grown up an orphan.

Before Draco's thoughts could grow too maudlin, Harry came pelting back into the room. "If Hedwig is as fast as she looks, we shouldn't have to wait too long. Do you really think Neville can come if Dora is there?"

"I think it's a good bet. Old Dowager Longbottom seems to like the Tonks' very much. So if Dora is going, I think she'll let Neville go too." Draco was smiling as he said this, strangely it made him happy to see Harry so excited about something. He never would have guessed that coming back in time would change his views so much.

Harry's whole face lit up as a huge smile crossed it. "That's great! I bet we'll all have a great time together!"

"I'm sure you're right Harry," Draco said with his own smile. "Now, how do you feel about actually getting down to the pitch. I know I'm going to lose but I feel like a seeker's duel."

Harry eagerly nodded, "Sounds like a plan to me."

MM

The boys were out on the pitch when Hedwig came winging back onto the Malfoy grounds. Abandoning his search for this snitch, Harry hurriedly landed as soon as he saw her. As he held out his arm for her to land, he started talking excitedly to his owl. "I don't have any treats on me girl, but if you wait for me back up at my room I promise you some then. If I'm lucky I'll be sending you right back out." He took the letter from her talons, and shook a bit as she took back off into the air. It seemed he had not even noticed Draco landing next to him.

"Well," asked Draco, "what did she say?"

Harry was hurriedly scanning his way through the letter, thankfully it seemed to be a short one. By the way his face lit up, Draco knew his question was unnecessary. Now they only had to get Neville's Gran to agree. "Well, I guess you'd better go get started on a letter to Neville. Make sure you're very polite, and make sure you mention that Dora is coming now. Maybe say something about it becoming a family affair. Don't forget he may show his Gran the letter."

"I won't! I promise! This is going to be brilliant!"

And before Draco could say anything else, Harry was running back off in the direction of the house leaving even his precious broom behind him. Chuckling to himself, Draco put everything away, and then made his way up to the house at a much more sedate pace.

He wondered if maybe he shouldn't send a few letters himself. At least to Blaise and Pansy, anyway. He could feel out their responses to his late-summer excitement, find out how much they already knew – if anything – beyond what had been in the Prophet.

As he meandered up the broad expanse of back lawn, he thought that sounded like a good idea. He would take care of some letter-writing of his own. That made up his mind for him, at least for a few moments; he headed towards his own room. Before entering, he stuck his head across the hall into Harry's room, where his Cousin was still working on the letter to Neville. "I've got a couple of letters of my own I've been meaning to write. I'll be in my room if you want me when you're done."

Harry looked up when he finished his sentence. "Oh. I'll wait for you to come find me. I thought maybe I'd start studying the family Book of Shadows or reading my Mum and Dad's first year Journals while I waited for Neville to write back."

Draco nodded his understanding, and withdrew across the hall, to his own writing desk. Reaching for a piece of parchment, he decided that it was only fair that Pansy be first – she was the one of the two he'd known longer by a fair bit. If he wrote Blaise first and she somehow found out about it, she'd no doubt be insulted somehow.

He wrote at his cagey best, trying his hardest to illicit her reaction to his new-found cousin, without giving away too much about the situation beyond what he knew had been written in the Prophet. If anyone was going to be too loose with information they shouldn't have, it would be Pansy responding to him. He did, however, intentionally give away that Harry was indeed distant family, and that Lord Black had indeed been freed as innocent, and confirmed that he was the head of his Mother's Family (not least to mention, Harry's Godfather). Though he left out that Sirius was still under the care of mind healers.

Oddly, his letter to Blaise was much more straightforward. He merely confirmed that their family had at the moment partial custody of his Cousin, Harry Potter, asked if there were any rumors making the rounds beyond what had been reported in the Prophet, stated that he was currently satisfied with the arrangement, and asked for the other boy's opinion on the current state of things. He'd learned the hard way his first time through that Blaise – though Slytherin – was not one for intrigues. As he'd been a friend and ally up until that point, Draco had decided to be more of a straight-shooter with the boy this time through. He wasn't sure he could afford to alienate anyone if he could see a way to avoid doing so.

Sealed letters in hand, he made his way down to the small former rookery that now housed the family owls. Though Thor, the mighty Eagle Owl was the primary family owl, with as much political work as his Father did, Draco could understand why they had so many other owls at their disposal on a permanent basis. And at times like this, he was glad of it.

Mail sent, Draco headed back up towards Harry's room, mind racing about like a snitch as he did so. Hopefully he had just started laying the groundwork that would see his kinship and friendship with Harry accepted within the walls of Slytherin House once they got to school. It would be a potential disaster for both of them – and therefore a real misfired spell in the duel to what remained of his plan – if there was too much tension for them to remain close during term. He needed to see their friendship flourish. And frankly, he really had come to a place where he wanted it to. He still wasn't sure what had changed, or what had caused that change, he just knew that in this time, in this time-line, he liked Harry Potter well enough. Which was good, since he needed Harry's firm support down the road.

He knocked on the doorframe when as he entered Harry's room. Harry looked up from the book he was reading – it looked like one of the journals had won. "You think Uncle Severus would like to read this when I'm done with it," Harry asked.

His Mother's Journal, then. "He'd probably love it. You know he wants to find time to tell you stories about the way he remembers her, right?"

"He does?"

"Well, yeah. Just like how Lord Black wants to tell you all about your Father. Nobody's happy you had to grow up without your Parents, Harry. I think they all want to help you feel like you at least know about them, since you didn't get to know them."

Harry gave him a rather distinct smile. It seemed as if it would have reached his eyes, but those same eyes were full of an old-soul seriousness that made Draco question if he were really the one who had travelled back in time. He almost gave the whole game away right then, under the power of that half-sad, half-grateful expression. "You lot are the best, you know," Harry said after a moment. "I'm so glad you decided to talk to me in Madam Malkin's, Draco."

"I am too," he answered honestly, "I am too."

Before the moment could descend into too much more seriousness, Hedwig winged her way in through the open window, announcing herself with a soft chuff. She landed on the headboard of Harry's bed, and extended her leg for Harry to take the letter.

When Harry had relieved her of her burden, she fluttered over to her perch, and got herself a drink. Harry was staring at the rolled letter in his hands as though it was going to bite him.

"Well," said Draco. "Aren't you going to see what it says?"

"What if his Gran said no?" Harry was rapidly turning a strange hue of pale.

"Then we try again next year, and make sure we sit with him on the train. Go on, open it."

Harry thrust the hand holding the note towards Draco. "I can't!"

Draco sighed. "You're really going to have to learn to read _all_ your own post someday," he said good-naturedly. But he proceeded to unroll the scroll, and scan over it himself. He just barely kept himself from smiling.

"Well?"

Draco cleared his throat over-dramatically. "Dear Harry," he began. Dropping to a normal tone of voice he said, "Are you sure you want me to read this for you? I mean, you could just as easily read it yourself?"

"Draco! Don't do this to me!"

"Oh, alright. Dear Harry, I didn't mean to imply you had to invite me! But thank you so much! Gran says I can go – which almost made me pass out. I think because your Cousin Dora is going to be there too. Plus it's a public place – not like anything bad will happen, right? I'll meet you up by the ticket counter before the game. Gran says she'll have me there early, she reckons you'll probably be there a bit early too. I'll tell him myself on Friday, but in the meantime, please tell Mr. Malfoy Thank You from me, very much! I can't wait. See you on Friday! Your Godbrother, Neville."

Harry was now beaming from ear to ear. And Draco couldn't help but chuckle at him. "See Harry, I told you it would be fine to read your own post."

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"You're a prat. But I have a question."

"If I'm a prat, I might not answer, but ask me anyway."

"Do you think your Mum would take us to Diagon again before Saturday? I'm out of Exploding Snap cards, and I know I'll want them for the train on Sunday – and we might want to play again on Saturday, if we go to visit Padfoot again."

"Harry, that's a loaded question. Getting Mum to take us to Diagon? Shouldn't be any problem at all. The problem is how many extra places we'll end up being drug besides where we want to go. Mother loves to shop. Although if it's just Diagon Alley, it might not be that bad… Come on, let's go and ask her – you can use your gift certificate too, while you're there – if anything strikes your fancy. And come to think of it, you'll probably want something to wear to the Montrose game, which means an excuse to go into Quality Quidditch Supply."

As expected, getting Narcissa to go along with the proposal of a trip to Diagon Alley the next day wasn't a great difficulty. Afterwards, the boys headed back to the pitch and spent most of the afternoon flying around, playing different positions, mostly having fun with a lopsided seekers duel. They ended the day with a dip in the swimming pond before it was time to clean up for dinner. That night when Draco left Harry, the dark-haired boy was buried nose deep in his Mother's First-Year Journal again.

**A/N: **I'll admit, a bit of a transition chapter, but one that felt like it needed to happen. I hope you all enjoyed Draco's musings.

As ever, much credit goes to Lupinefire for the fine beta-work.

I'm already hip-deep in NaNo, so I'm very glad of my backlog of Chapters. I realize this is making me a bit remiss in my review-answering, so let me just say here that I do treasure each and every review. I think you all are a really great bunch of people to be reading my humble little story like this.


	14. The First Confession

**A/N:** I managed to answer reviews. I'm doing well. And this is posted before an obscenely late hour of Thursday. (Well, in my timezone anyway.) Wait… This is where I put the disclaimer. Obviously NaNo _is_ still consuming some part of my soul. *sigh* Oh well. *Stands up straight* The characters and settings your recognize are not my intellectual nor fiscal property. But it sure is fun to pretend.

Chapter Fourteen

_The First Confession_

The bustle of the hastily scheduled trip to Diagon saw them well stocked with new Exploding Snap decks, and Harry buying the next few books in the History series he'd started, along with a more recent beginners' guide to ritual magic, and a history of the Montrose Magpies. Then at Quality Quidditch Supply Draco had insisted he purchase a Montrose jersey to wear to the game, but conceded that he may as well get one without a name on it, as he could hardly have a favorite player yet.

When they returned home, Draco had followed Harry back up to his room to watch him stow his new purchases, only to have Harry beg off doing anything for a while. He'd been up late finishing his Mother's First Year Journal, and really wanted to read his Father's as well. Harry seemed to think it was brilliant luck that both of them had kept journals that early, feeling it gave him a good grounding of what sorts of things to look forward to within the Castle. Draco readily enough agreed, and also pointed out that the journals were a great way to start getting to know the memory of his Parents. He returned to his own room to find replies to the letters he'd written the previous day. At least he wouldn't be without something to occupy his time.

He opened the letter from Blaise first – at least there was no way Pansy could possibly know what order he'd read the replies in.

_Draco,_

_ I was actually quite happy to hear that your family, along with the Tonks', had been given temporary custody of Potter. It never quite sat well with myself or my Lady Mother that he had seemingly disappeared from our world. To find out he'd been left not only with Muggles, but abusive ones at that had us both rather angry. At least now he'll be coming to Hogwarts and society with some of the grounding someone of his status should have had in the first place. To think of the scandal should the last scion of an Ancient and Noble house coming to school with no idea about his Wizarding heritage? Blasphemy. Good that he's your cousin – no matter what others may be bandying about, I know that means he is safe in your family's care. I know your Mother's stance on family. I also feel that, regardless of his political leanings (or lack thereof after imprisonment) it will be good for him that his Godfather has been released from Azkaban._

_ Your kinship will come under no attack from my quarter, I assure you. Beyond the fact that family is important, you know that I of all people believe this is a different world than that which our parents had thought to build for us. It can only be of gain to be seen to be at the very least neutral to one so obviously intended to be a rallying point for the forces of light. I salute your quick thinking – you may have done more to salvage your family's name than all your Father's charitable donations have managed thus far._

_ I look forward to meeting Harry, I imagine he's quite the interesting fellow, and probably nothing like what the press had led us to believe all these years._

_Respectfully,_

_Blaise Zabini_

Well that was one vote of confidence, or so it seemed. And veiled confirmation that even among the greyer circles there were rumors that they had moved for custody to do some sort of harm to Harry – which oddly enough pissed Draco off. Could nothing they do ever be attributed to pure motives? Harry was Family. Everyone knew how important family was to his Mother. It should be as simple as that.

With a sigh, he turned to the reply from Pansy. Somehow, he doubted this one would put him in any better a mood. That girl could be so flighty sometimes…

_My Dearest Draco,_

_I could hardly believe it, and now you tell me it's true? You're stuck with that horrible Potter, and right across the hall from you! Don't worry, when we get to school, there's no way he'll be in Slytherin with us. You can escape his constant presence. I'll protect you! We won't let his trying to worm his way into a good family like the Malfoy's stand._

_I'll try to write more later… Right now I'm just too irritated to._

_Love and Kisses,_

_Pansy_

Well that was even worse than he'd expected. Had she actually read the letter he'd written? He thought he'd made it pretty clear that he was happy with the current arrangement. If Pansy's attitude persisted, he'd have to approach his Father about reconsidering their plan to offer a betrothal contract on Pansy. If she was going to be that contrary – and that ill-considerate of family – he knew already he wanted nothing to do with her. That stopped him in his tracks. He already knew he didn't want Pansy. In his past-future, they'd already elected against the contract with the Parkinsons. How had that escaped his mind? Was he losing his memories of the future? That was a bad thought.

Who to trust with this whole mess? He knew his Godfather was Marked, as his Father was, but he'd always suspected that it had been as inconvenient for him as it had been for his Father when the Dark Lord had returned.

Draco made a snap-judgment that he knew could cost him dearly if he was wrong. He needed to talk to his Godfather about this. And now. Practically running, he headed off to find his Mother to have her fire-call his Godfather and see if they could meet to talk before term started. Suddenly, it was the most important thing in the world.

MM

"Alright," said Severus. "You had your Mother fire-call me citing a practical emergency, then wouldn't even talk to me in the house. You've drug me all the way out to the pitch. You will cease this frantic fluttering, and tell me what's going on _now_ – you've seen yourself to the end of my patience, and I _will_ be going back to the school if I don't find out why I'm here in the next few moments."

"Of course, of course Uncle Severus. The thing is, you aren't going to believe me. I'll tell you, but you're going to have to look through my memories afterwards, because otherwise you won't believe me."

Softening his expression slightly, Severus leaned back against the equipment shed. "I'm listening Draco."

"I came back in time from my sixth year because the Dark Lord wanted me to kill Dumbledore. The only thing I could think to do was to befriend Harry, though now I find that I'm really friends with him. But what worries me is I think I'm starting to forget some of what did happen – which I know I've already drastically changed the timeline, but I still think it would be better off knowing what did-will-can happen so I can be ready for it, and I'm afraid I'm going to bollocks this up, and you're the only one I could think of to trust, and I know you have the Mark just like Father does, so this could be cursing myself in the foot, but I'm not sure you were any happier than we were when he rose in the original timeline."

He was treated to the very rare sight of his Godfather absolutely speechless. After a long few moments, Severus finally regained his powers of voice. "I'm sorry, I thought you said you came back in time from a future where the Dark Lord had re-risen."

"I did. I came back to try to ally the family with Harry, since he seemed to be sort of the anti-Voldemort, and I thought we could turn that into some sort of protection. Please, look through my memories. I can't walk around being the only one who knows this anymore!"

Severus responded by taking Draco's chin gently in his hand, locking their eyes, and incanting the spell to see into his mind. With gaining speed, he skimmed through Draco's original first six years at Hogwarts, then his trip back through time, right up to that morning. When he had finished, both were pale as sheets, and Severus looked distinctly as if he wanted to be ill.

"I don't know if I want to praise you for cunning worthy of Slytherin, or blast you for rushing in like a Gryffindor. I suppose it took a bit of both to use that kit like you did. You understand I will have to tell your Father, at least? If we're to be free of the line of fire, we need to start working on a way to sever the Dark Mark. I will not be going back in as a spy – yes, you've given your trust to me in this, I shall give mine to you. For the majority of my time with the Death Eaters, I was serving as Dumbledore's Spy. With him out of the picture, I refuse to serve that purpose any longer." Severus paused to think.

"What should I do, Uncle?"

"Continue on as you have been. Enjoy your friendship, and your leg up on your studies, although with your memories already starting to diminish, that leg up may only last you so long. Be strong and smart. Come to me if you feel you need to, though obviously in privacy and secrecy only. You have taken a bold step to free your family from the yoke of a madman. It is an ambition to be proud of. Keep an open mind. Do your best to handle Parkinson, and certainly cultivate a closer alliance with Zabini, he seems to have a reasonable outlook."

"And you?"

"You were right to come to me. I will be spending what time I can researching a solution to the problem of our Marks. I have at least a partial timetable now to work under, though I have no idea if it has been moved forward or back. I will also be in touch with Lord Black, when I can. I have a vague Idea how this lingering of the Dark Lord's is possible – very ancient, dark magic. We shall be seeking help from the Goblins, and I feel it will go best if myself, your Father, and Lord Black can approach them together. In the vein of setting groundwork for that cooperation, I will again accompany you on your visit on Saturday. In the meantime, as I suggested, act as normally as you feel you can, and nourish your friendship with Harry. There are other factors he must be made aware of as soon as possible, but I will need Lord Black's help with those, as well."

The pair started walking back up toward the house. "Did I make the right decision?"

"In coming back, or in confiding in me?"

"Either?"

"I think both were proper decisions. And also the only viable alternatives you were presented with. I will help you as best as I can, Draco. And Harry as well. I may have hated his Father, but his Mother was one of my closest friends until our falling out in our Fifth year."

They were rapidly approaching the main rear entrance to the Manor. "That reminds me," said Draco, with something akin to excitement in his voice once again. "Harry had something he wanted to lend you. Don't leave until we talk to you – I think Father is in his Study, we'll meet you there or in the Drawing Room." And he raced away up to Harry's room.

"Hey Harry!" Draco stuck his head through the open door to Harry's room, prompting the boy to look up from his Father's First-Year Journal.

"Yes Draco?"

"If you still wanted to loan your Mum's Journal to Uncle Severus, he's here right now – I thought it would be a good chance so you don't have to find time once we're at school."

Harry stood up, setting down his Father's Journal, and rapidly picking up his Mother's. "Lead the way!"

Draco led them back downstairs, stopping to check the drawing room first. When he knocked at the door, the muffled conversation behind it stopped, and it was his Godfather's voice that called for them to come in. As they entered, he noticed his Mother was sitting in the room as well, her face a bit ashen in appearance. He hoped Harry wouldn't pick up on the tension in the room.

Harry, though, was focused on only one person. "Uncle Severus?"

"Yes Harry?"

"My Mum left this for me, and I thought maybe you'd like reading it too – maybe it would bring back some good memories for you. It's her Journal from her First Year at Hogwarts. I know you probably don't have much time for pleasure reading, but I'll happily lend it to you…" He trailed off, as if not knowing what to say.

Severus's face revealed that he was touched. He gingerly took the offered book, and ran the fingers of his right hand gently over the worn cover. "You lending me this book means more to me than I can say, Harry. I promise to treat it with utmost care, and I'll have it back to you as soon as I can."

"You're welcome," Harry said, happy to do something nice for his unofficial Uncle. Then he shifted a little uncomfortably on his feet. "I also want to apologize. My Dad was really great in some ways, but just reading his Journal I can tell in other ways he was kind of a bully. It wasn't fair the way he treated you. I understand why Lord Black felt like he should apologize to you now, especially if they kept on that way."

"It's in the past, Harry," said Severus, uncomfortably aware that in a future that wasn't to be, it wouldn't have been. "It has no bearing on how I feel about you."

"Thanks Uncle Severus! If I can be excused, there's more reading I want to do today?"

It was Lucius that spoke. "You are excused Harry, please enjoy your afternoon. Draco, if you'd please stay behind for a bit. We'd like a word with you."

Draco shot Harry a strained smile, trying to indicate that he wasn't in trouble – at least, he hoped he wasn't in trouble. As soon as the door had closed behind his Cousin, he sat down on the ottoman. "I imagine you have plenty of questions for me."

MM

After being asked to rehash virtually everything his Godfather had seen in his mind, having his Godfather confirm it, then being asked his opinion on some of those events, the questions he couldn't answer began. "Son, with Dumbledore out of the Castle, when do you think the Dark Lord will rise this time?"

At that, Severus stepped in. "Lucius, there is no way even _we_ can begin to theorize about that, and we've a good deal more experience than the lad here has. That's why I intend to begin attempting to research ways to remove the Mark as soon as possible. If we're not Marked, we remove much of his immediate control over us when he does rise. I think the more valid question is when and how much of this do we tell young Harry?"

"Must we?" Narcissa looked nearly ashen again. "The boy has had to deal with so much already."

"There's a valid prophecy. I intend, once he has recovered sufficiently, to discuss with Lord Black having Harry hear it as soon as possible. I heard part of it, and as we all know, that is why the lad's parents are dead. He needs to hear the whole thing, and know danger is coming. He'll also need to be well trained. We'll see how this first year of schooling goes, and once it's possible, we'll see about getting him the training that he needs. Thankfully Dumbledore won't be able to interfere. He'd just as likely be setting the boy tests he'd be unprepared for, and counting on dumb luck to get the boy through – and considering _that_ training. He needs _proper_ training."

"I agree," said Lucius. "The question is when to come clean to the boy about what we know."

"I think that part is my job." All eyes swiveled toward Draco, whom the adults had, quite honestly, forgotten for a moment was even in the room. "I'm the one who had to explain to him why Neville's Gran wouldn't let him come along to the game tomorrow without Dora there most likely, and why people wouldn't be too thrilled with him being with us period. He seemed to accept it. It'll be a job timing it so he's settled and trusting enough to believe me, but it hasn't taken so long that he thinks I've broken his trust, but I think it should come from me. I am the one who came back in time, after all."

There wasn't much they could say to that. He got half-convinced nods, and considered that the best answer he was likely to get. "I only ask that you keep me updated about what's going on from your end? I came back for all of us, and I don't want to see us ending up working at cross purposes. We're throwing our lot in with the fight against the Dark Lord, and even though we're doing it before it's started back up again, I know that's a risky proposition. We've got to all be on the same page when anything important is happening."

This time the nods were much more pronounced. "I'm not saying I want to run the whole show – I know I don't have the experience for that much. I just… I started this, and I want to have a say in seeing it through."

"Understandable, Draco. And let me just say…" Severus paused for just a moment here, obviously reflecting on something. "Your choices at 16 show how much mine – and I believe your Father's – left to be desired. Now, go off and see if you can drag Harry away from his books. I need to get back to the school, and I expect your own Parents need some time to adjust themselves to the new situation."

Draco nodded, and headed for the door. "I'm sorry for essentially dropping this in everyone's lap. It just seemed like my only option at the time."

"My poor Dragon," said his Mother. "You have nothing to apologize for. If this works even partially the way you have hoped it would, you have come back to save us all."

MM

As it turned out, Harry was ready for a break from his Father's Journal. They spent the rest of the day by turns going over Quidditch books, goofing about on the pitch, and just talking about the game. Draco took seriously his duty to see that Harry was well prepared for his first Quidditch Match ever. He also was working fairly hard to ensure that Harry would end up a Montrose fan – it seemed a logical goal, he thought, given that his own Father was a part-owner of the team. What other team would he be backing? Of course he'd want his Cousin cheering on the same team.

When Harry asked who they'd be playing against at the match, Draco honestly told him he didn't know, but expressed rather vehemently that he hoped it wasn't the Cannons.

"Why not?"

"They're the worst team in the league. Montrose is generally the best. If we're playing Chudley, the game will be short, and hardly exciting. If we're really lucky, it'll be against the Harpies."

"That's the all-witch team, right?"

"Right! Some years they're about as good as Montrose is too. That would be a great pairing for your first match."

"Well I'll hope for the Harpies, then." Harry's expression changed suddenly, and he asked Draco a question that seemed to come from nowhere. "How do you figure my Mum and Dad ended up together?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… Just from the journals, my Mum seems like such a nice person. And my Dad… it seems like he could be great to his friends, but other than that, he comes off like he was a real prat a lot of the time."

Draco couldn't help applying a good portion of the logic in his answer to himself. "People grow up, Harry. Maybe he just sort of grew out of being a git?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It must be something like that."

It was then that one of the house-elves popped in and announced that they needed to be heading down for dinner. Although initially the conversation had a bit of a stilted air to it – which Draco fervently hoped Harry wasn't noticing – the talk soon turned to the following day's Match. When Lucius was able to tell them that the opposing team was, in fact, the Harpies, Draco and Harry both let forth very ungentlemanly whoops of joy at the dinner table. All in all, it was looking as if it would be a great day that awaited them.

**A/N:** I know, another somewhat "talky" Chapter, but one that needed to occur. Draco's secret is out now – although not to Harry – so that's most of a load off his mind. And he has some idea of how the breakdown in Slytherin will go concerning his kinship to the Boy-Who-Lived.

Next Week is the Montrose game, and a little more action – not to mention a bit broader cast of characters than we've had these past few chapters.

As always, I welcome reviews – positive comments feed the creative beast, and constructive criticism keeps the beast on task.

NaNo is currently eating my Soul, but don't worry, there's plenty of backlogged chapters waiting to be posted for the rest of the month. We shan't fall behind.

As always, this Chapter wouldn't be what it is without the stalwart and sharp-eyed beta work of Lupinefire. Errors are mine, I can't help but tinker.


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